Slow Dancing in a Burning Room
by SweetestDisarray
Summary: The fire was lit by kisses in a thunderstorm, fingers caressing rain-wet skin that felt like it burned. Now it was too late to stop it - with Kurt and Blaine still dancing around each other, neither willing to let go, the flames might consume them both.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first multi-chapter Klaine fic, inspired by the acoustic version of John Mayer's "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room". I was drawn to the atmosphere and the raw emotion of this version of the song, which can be found at www [dot] youtube [dot] com/watch?v=g-1OieJ9HK0. Most of all, this is a dialogue driven, relationship exploring, character building fic. However, don't despair - I was only inspired by certain lyrics in the song, definitely not all of them! There will be happy Klaine to be found - as the story has developed, it has been moulded by many songs. This is canon up to Silly Love Songs, which it picks up after - though some things will still stay the same as in later canon, like the songs sung by New Directions at Regionals. I hope you enjoy it!

**Slow Dancing in a Burning Room**

**Chapter One**

Kurt Hummel was not one who could just tell his feelings to give up, any more than he could magically wake up one morning and decide not to be gay.

After the Valentine's Day Confession in the Lima Bean, and the blessed relief of easy friendship that reappeared while singing "Silly Love Songs", he had honestly tried to put aside his feelings for Blaine. _An outright rejection should be enough to keep you down_, he told them sternly, trying to lock them away behind a wall of a cappella arrangements and _Vogue_ covers in his mind. But they refused to go, continually sneaking tendrils through cracks and over ledges where Kurt had not built the walls solidly or high enough.

And at times like this, when Blaine's coffee-warmed hand grabbed his over the table, Kurt's feelings gleefully exploded and flooded through his body.

'Kurt?'

'Yes? Sorry, Blaine. You have my full attention.' Kurt yanked himself back to reality and looked at Blaine expectantly, alert, ignoring the skim of a palm over his knuckles.

Blaine shot him a fond smile. 'I need a favour,' he said. 'Dalton's sister school, Crawford Country Day, throws this big charity night every year - you know, performances, dinner, auctions. The Warblers do a number, which we'll be rehearsing this week, but my friend Sarah's on the organising committee, and she asked me to do another song...'

'And let me guess - you know my voice would be just perfect to fill out the top of the "doo doo doos" being sung in the background,' Kurt said dryly.

Blaine chuckled. 'Nah, I already recruited three sophomores for that. I was kinda hoping that maybe you'd do a duet with me.'

Kurt only had to flash back for a second to a room, fire-lit and warm in spite of the Christmas chill... Blaine's smooth voice following him around the room, coaxing him to stay...

'I'd be happy to,' Kurt said, leaning back from the table and hiding his eagerness behind his coffee cup.

x

'Tell me again why, of all the music in the world, we're doing an _Alexander Rybak_ song for the Crawford charity night? He can't even sing,' Kurt said derisively, as Warblers rehearsal came to an end.

Blaine rolled his eyes at Wes as he answered. 'Our esteemed Councilman decided that it was nauseatingly sappy enough to win over the hearts and phone numbers of every girl in the audience.'

Wes sat down on the leather sofa on the other side of Blaine, squishing him across and into Kurt. Kurt forced himself not to map the join of their bodies, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, thigh to thigh, all burning with warmth.

'What Blaine is failing to mention is that the only reason any of us know any Alexander Rybak son- mmph.' Wes was momentarily cut off as Blaine slapped a hand over the older boy's mouth. Wes pushed it away with a smirk, and continued, 'Blaine had a crush on him last year. Watched every video on Youtube that he could find. About twelve times.'

Blaine flushed slightly as Kurt laughed, and dug his elbow into Wes's ribs in retaliation. 'Wes, can we use the choir room now? Kurt and I need to practice our number.'

Wes pulled himself off the couch, shaking his head. 'Sorry, Blaine. Liam beat you to it.'

Blaine flopped back against the sofa for a moment, frowning, before his face brightened and he grabbed Kurt's hand, pulling him up and snagging his guitar from a nearby wall. 'You still up for practice now?' he asked, already halfway across the room with Kurt in tow.

'Sure!' Kurt replied, a little breathless. 'But where are we going?'

'You'll see,' Blaine said with a grin. 'You have to promise not to complain, because it's one of my favourite places in the whole school.'

That didn't sound promising. Kurt faltered slightly, looking at Blaine suspiciously; but Blaine just laughed at him, still pulling him by the hand, up flights of stairs and down corridors until they were on the top floor, at the very edge of the school. Then, with a flourish, Blaine tugged a dangling cord, and a ladder appeared from the ceiling. Dust particles floated out of the opening, catching in the afternoon light.

Kurt stopped. 'No. Blaine Anderson, I am _not_ going to practice in an attic. I can see the inches of dust caking everything from here!'

'Kurt, it's just your uniform. It'll wash.'

'I'll ignore what you just said in favour of pointing out that not only will clothes be ruined, but also hair, and skin, and with that much dust, probably _vocal chords_! Do you want to explain to Wes why our vocal chords end up _fossilised _less than two weeks before Regionals?'

Blaine chose not to buy into Kurt's growing semi-hysteria, instead stepping behind him and pushing him firmly towards the ladder as Kurt whimpered slightly. When Kurt didn't start climbing, Blaine stepped closer, his chest almost pressing against Kurt's back. Leaning forward, Blaine said quietly, 'Please? Kurt, you promised.'

Blaine's warm breath was sweeping across Kurt's neck and caressing his ear. Kurt didn't know what words were being uttered, too transfixed by the sheer bliss of sensation. When Blaine's hands caught him under the arms, gently urging him upwards, Kurt climbed the ladder without a second thought. It wasn't until he was standing in the dim, stuffy attic, broken free from Blaine's hands, that he realised he'd been manipulated; and, as the back of his neck tingled slightly, that he didn't care.

Blaine hoisted himself up a moment later, guitar in hand once more, and pulled the ladder up behind him, plunging the room back into darkness. With surprising accuracy he then darted for the wall, and fumbling with what sounded like a latch, opened the shutters on a fair sized window opening into the slanting roof. The sunlight outside streamed through, catching the dust that Blaine had thrown up. Kurt's breath caught as Blaine turned to look at him - with the sunlight and dust swirling behind him, it looked like he was haloed by dancing particles of gold.

Below the window was a battered leather bench, easily wide enough for two and surprisingly dust free. Blaine casually settled himself on it, resting his guitar on his knee.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. 'Come here often?'

'Often enough. It's quiet here, a lot more private than the choir room, and...' he paused, looking slightly sheepish. 'Well, it always feels a little brighter and warmer up here, since we're closer to the sun.'

And with such an endearing, innocent admission like that, how could Kurt be mad about the filth already clinging to his shoes?

'Right,' Blaine said after a pause, sitting up straighter. 'Shall we get started? You should know the song - but here's the sheet music.' After pulling some paper out of his backpack and handing it to Kurt, Blaine began to strum a simple tune that Kurt recognised immediately.

_The dawn is breaking__  
>A light shining through<br>You're barely waking  
>And I'm tangled up in you<em>

_I'm open, you're closed  
>Where I follow, you'll go<br>I worry I won't see your face  
>Light up again<em>

Kurt almost missed his cue to start the chorus. His mind was flying in a million directions - the smooth slide of Blaine's voice in the air, pulling his spirit in close - the achingly beautiful image that the first verse conjured, one that he wanted so badly - and a wild hope that the lyrics could mean something, _anything_. He had to fiercely remind himself that Blaine was possibly the most clueless gay boy to ever grace the planet, and he would be selecting songs for the audience, not the performers. He pulled himself together to sing:

_Even the best fall down sometimes  
>Even the wrong words seem to rhyme<br>Out of the doubt that fills my mind  
>I somehow find<br>You and I collide_

They both paused for the brief point where the sophomores would be singing. Kurt sat next to Blaine on the bench, but turned his face away. He knew what was coming next.

_I'm quiet you know  
>You make a first impression<br>I've found I'm scared to know  
>I'm always on your mind<em>

Even despite telling himself Blaine was clueless, that line was like a physical blow, coming from Blaine's mouth. _I'm sorry! _Kurt's mind shouted. He was trying, he really was. He just couldn't help it. Their voices joined together for the chorus, but still Kurt looked away.

'_Don't stop here_,' Kurt sang.

'_I lost my place_,' Blaine returned, before his and Kurt's voices joined together again.

_I'm close behind_

_Even the best fall down sometimes  
>Even the wrong words seem to rhyme<br>Out of the doubt that fills my mind  
>You finally find<br>You and I collide_

'_You finally find, you and I collide,_' Kurt sang, almost whispering.

'_You finally find, you and I collide_.' Blaine's final note was a conclusion and an agreement and a rejection all at once.

_Clueless_, Kurt reminded himself a final time, and couldn't keep in a sigh. He still hadn't turned to look at Blaine, and jumped when he felt something heavy land on his shoulder. He turned to see Blaine's face near his own, the tanned cheek resting against Kurt's shoulder.

'That was great,' Blaine said, both his voice and smile very soft. 'We're going to be great.'

They stayed in the attic for awhile, soaking up the sunlight on their backs and talking quietly. Kurt had to admit to himself, it did almost feel warmer up here than it had in the sun on any of the lower levels. He barely noticed when Blaine's arm twined around his waist, he was so sated by the sunbeams and quiet, easy chatter with his best friend.

x

Kurt and Blaine rehearsed often over the next few days, sometimes in the choir room with the sophomores, who sang their "doo doo doos" without complaint; but more often than not they were in the attic, blazers off, singing quietly together in the golden mix of dust, light and music. One day, they arrived together at Warblers practice with grime still all over their shoes and blazers. (Blaine had thoughtlessly tossed the garments off the bench and onto the floor so he could sit down, and not even Kurt's thorough beating had been able to get the grey, sticky powder off.) David asked where they'd been that they could get so dirty, and Kurt realised that Blaine had never taken anyone else into his hiding spot.

Friday came, and Wes ran through the halls in a blind panic; he grabbed every Warbler in sight, and even some boys who just looked like Warblers, and demanded to know if they'd realised Regionals was a week away from today. He almost tried to pull the entire choir out of the Crawford Country Day charity night, before David gently led him off into their dorm, replacing the phone in Wes's hand with a gavel and muttering soothing noises.

That night, Blaine and Kurt performed "Collide" to a room packed full of teenage girls, their parents, and alumni of the school. He supposed Wes's brief for song selection of "get girls' phone numbers" had been filled when, to his surprise, he found three in his hand after the show.

He tried not to smirk when Blaine moved to his side, wrapped his hand around Kurt's elbow, and said, 'Sorry, ladies, but he plays for my team.' Unfortunately, instead of smirking, Kurt blushed instead.

On Monday morning, Blaine burst into the study hall and started an impromptu performance of "Misery" that soon had all the Warblers, and many others, singing and dancing in the corridor like loons. Kurt tried to swallow his jealousy and sing along, but found that it started to choke him when Blaine announced that the song was to be their opening number for Regionals. When Blaine asked Kurt what he thought of the song afterwards, he almost made a snide comment about "Blaine and the Pips", until something in Blaine's face stopped him. There, hidden just in the corners of his eyes, was a vulnerability that Kurt hadn't seen before - and just as he recognised the vulnerability, he recognised with a slight shock that he could easily exploit it. Blaine actually _cared_ about what Kurt had to say. The wrong words could hurt both Blaine's feelings and confidence.

So instead, Kurt just told Blaine that he was great, as always. Blaine grinned at him, squeezed his fingers, and told Kurt to keep Thursday night free.

Kurt spent the rest of the morning with Pavarotti, but didn't try to make the bird sing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

On Thursday night, Kurt changed into his pyjamas, collected up his pillow and blanket, and snuck down the hall to Blaine's room. Blaine still hadn't told Kurt why he had to keep Thursday night free, or why indeed he had to wear his pyjamas and sneak into Blaine's room the night before Regionals, but Kurt had done as was asked of him. Apparently Blaine's roommate was interstate for a family wedding, and would be until Sunday; that was all Kurt had been told on the matter.

Having reached Blaine's door, Kurt tapped gently on the dark-stained wood. He waited, but didn't receive a response, and hearing music coming from within the room, decided to let himself in.

He stopped in the doorway, mouth open, trying very hard not to laugh. Blaine's hair was in curly disarray, and was being held back from his face by a tie wrapped around his head that was certainly not a Dalton standard issue. In fact, on closer inspection, Kurt realised it was striped red and gold. Blaine himself was standing on his bed, belting out lyrics in unison with a band playing from his laptop:

_I was a teenaged werewolf  
>Doing the best that I caaaaaan<br>I wanna hold your hand  
>But evi-<em>

At that point, Blaine opened his eyes, having turned to face Kurt during the drawn out "can", and stopped rather abruptly. Kurt shut the door carefully, resting his hand on the handle momentarily, before he burst into violent laughter.

'What... on earth... are you doing?' Kurt gasped, clutching at his stomach.

Blaine flashed Kurt another one of those sheepish smiles he was quickly coming to adore. 'Singing. "Teenage Werewolf" by the Remus Lupins.' He quickly pulled the tie off his head and stuffed it into his sock draw.

'The Remus Lupins?' Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow, sitting on the absent roommate's bed.

'Yeah!' Blaine said, his expression brightening again. 'It's actually this one guy, Alex Carpenter, who's a wizard rock band - you know, bands who sing songs about Harry Potter. He's awesome.'

Kurt merely shook his head in fond amusement. Just when he thought he had every layer of Blaine Anderson discovered, he found a new, more ridiculous and childish one hiding underneath.

And damn him if each wasn't more endearing than the last.

'So would you care to explain now why I'm here?' Kurt asked.

'Well, it's Regionals tomorrow,' Blaine said slowly, 'and so I thought tonight we should have a movie night.'

'It's potentially the most important performance the Warblers will do this year, so we should exhaust the lead singer by keeping him up watching movies all night?'

'Exactly!' Blaine agreed brightly, and then laughed at Kurt's sceptical expression. He crossed the room and sat next to Kurt, bumping shoulders playfully and making the taller boy giggle. 'I just figured that maybe if the super confident and experienced lead singer was feeling a bit nervous, then the newest addition to the Warblers might be too... and that maybe we could be nervous together.'

Kurt's heart melted instantly, and he gladly threw himself into watching films with Blaine. However, half way through the second films, Kurt found himself with his head on Blaine's shoulder (the better to see the laptop screen with), quietly explaining the worries about Regionals that plagued him.

'It's just... I love them. They haven't always been there, but I know they care more than anyone. And Finn, he's really come a long way recently. I know what the win would do for him and the club. And I can't not want that for them, you know?' Blaine murmured his understanding. 'But at the same time...'

'You want to be the best you can. And the best you can is good enough to win,' Blaine finished. Kurt nodded, feeling the worn cotton of Blaine's own pyjamas under his cheek.

'I throw everything I am into my performances - there's no hiding on the stage. So when I don't win, it's not just being told that I wasn't talented enough, it's like being told that _I_ wasn't enough.' Barely perceptible, Blaine's hand tightened on Kurt's far arm, where it had settled half an hour ago. Kurt continued, 'But in New Directions, it's not just me throwing myself in - everyone does. And I don't know what it would do to them if they were _all_told, a second time, that they didn't measure up.'

There was an implication there, an implication about the Warblers and their rules and restraints and their down-to-the-button regulations, but neither Kurt nor Blaine addressed it. They'd been there before, and now wasn't the time.

Blaine realised, despite the seriousness of the conversation, Kurt's eyes were sliding shut. In truth, Blaine's own eyes were getting heavy. He shut the lid of the laptop, placed it on his bedside table, and settled himself and Kurt more comfortably against the mountain of pillows behind them. He absently lett his fingertips sift through the hair on the back of Kurt's neck.

'Well, Kurt, either way, I think you win,' he said finally. 'There will be joy in either a Warblers or New Directions victory for you. That's the great thing about having friends - double the chance of winning, because you win whenever they do.'

'I think you're right,' Kurt murmured. There was a long, sleepy silence, filled with the heavy breathing of two boys on the cusp of dreams. As Kurt's subconscious started to take control, he asked, 'Sing me a lullaby?'

Blaine laughed gently. 'The only lullaby I know is one I heard on _So __You __Think __You __Can __Dance_.'

'I don't mind. Sing it to me, please.' Kurt rolled his face slightly, burying it in Blaine's chest.

Blaine sighed, knowing that although Kurt would have ammunition to tease him with in the morning, he had his own in that Kurt had asked for this - twice. He opened his mouth, letting his own subconscious take over, and not think about what he was singing.

_The shadows are waltzing  
>The moon beams are calling<br>Like a dream I am falling into  
>Silver threads lined with dew<br>Twinkling stars seem to shine  
>Just for you<em>

_Behind your eyes  
>Are endless blue skies<br>You travel places  
>I want to come too<br>Each breath that you breathe is a brush stroke  
>That leads me to you<em>

_So sleep  
>Fall into night's indigo hue<br>Believe me, it's true  
>There's nothing that I would not do<br>For my dream is sweet dreams for you..._

Kurt's last thought before he sunk into sleep was that if Blaine put that much tenderness and honesty into his Warblers performances, they'd be unstoppable.

x

New Directions wasn't even half way through their first number when Blaine realised, sadly, that the Warblers had never stood a chance.

They had performed well, yes - singing at Regionals had been exhilarating, and Blaine had responded with an energy and strength he hadn't known he had. The rest of the group had been fantastic, too, their arrangements and dances impeccable; and when Blaine had thrown his arms around Kurt at the end, he honestly thought they might have this.

But how could an upbeat rendition of "Misery" compare to this? No matter what Kurt had told him about the annoying little brunette and the whirlwind of drama that followed in her wake, he couldn't help but be a little in awe of Rachel. The awe only increased when Kurt whispered, pride in his friends suffusing his face, that New Directions was doing original songs. How could Blaine's choreographed energy complete with Rachel Berry, vocals flying full force, baring her soul onstage? There wasn't a single person in the room who couldn't feel the anguish of her regret and heartbreak.

Everyone was on their feet for the girl, and they barely had time to find their seats again when New Directions burst into a new song that was as upbeat as the first had been moving. Again, it was original, and had clearly come straight from the spirit of the people singing it. Out of nowhere, Kurt was pulling out huge red hands and handing them out, before he leapt to his feet to cheer for his friends. It was the happiest Blaine has seen Kurt in weeks.

As he danced along with the crowd, Blaine properly _watched_ the McKinley glee club for the first time. They really were nothing like the Warblers. His own choir had perfect control - they moved and sung as one body, and it was admirable. But Blaine could see what Kurt had meant about his friends last night - they really did throw themselves into the performance, and the result was a show full of _expression_. Not a single person up there was afraid to show who they were, and flaunt it. Be it the extra jump Mike threw in, or a line delivered by Santana with extra sass, or a point where Mercedes's voice soared and filled the stage, it was clearly a group of performers bringing out the best in each individual, and the result was that they _shone_.

Blaine looked back at Kurt, jumping around with that ridiculous hand proudly in the air, and realised, with a pang, exactly how much the boy had sacrificed for safety when he'd transferred to Dalton. Kurt, with all his pride and his suffering and his goddamn resilience, should be up there singing "Loser Like Me" with a smirk on his face like all his friends. Kurt was the most unique person Blaine had ever met, and he expressed himself through music and fashion. To put him in a uniform and tell him to sing and move in the exact manner of the boys around him... it wasn't just caging a bird, it was strangling one.

Feeling a mix of emotions well up that he couldn't hope to identify, Blaine took Kurt's hand while the auditorium was still dark and squeezed hard, not answering the questioning look that earned him. When the rest of the Warblers trooped out onstage to hear the judges' decision, Blaine stopped Kurt for a moment, just behind the curtain. He wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt and buried his face in Kurt's shoulder; Kurt froze for a moment, clearly confused, before slowly returning the hug, bringing one hand to the back of Blaine's head.

When McKinley's win was announced, Kurt jumped, letting go of Blaine's hand to start clapping before he remembered he should be sad. Watching Kurt, Blaine almost forgot to be sad too.

x

The Warblers had a commiseration party in the senior commons that, despite the gloomy atmosphere of the bus, ended up being quite fun - in the Dalton way. Everyone was dressed well in neat button downs and jeans, and no one was too wild, but the food was good, the guys were cheerful and the music was loud.

Blaine had stuck strangely close to Kurt all night, with little explanation. The shorter boy was outgoing as always, flashing charming smiles whenever people spoke to him and consoling fellow Warblers with gentle optimism, but he never really strayed far from Kurt's side. He caught Kurt's eye frequently, and seemed to relax slightly every time that he saw the boy was still there.

Kurt tried to relax and enjoy the evening as much as possible, dancing with the other choir members and making an effort to talk to the people around him. New Directions' win had been a bittersweet one for him. He hadn't really been able to hide how happy he was for his friends (Blaine had been right when he told Kurt that having friends win was like winning himself). But when everyone had piled on a bus to McKinley, chattering excitedly about New York, and Kurt had had to climb onto the bus for Dalton, it had finally really _hit_ him - that wasn't his glee club any more. He wouldn't be going to New York. He had competed with the Warblers; he had practiced, won and lost with them, and finished his journey when they did. It took a win for New Directions for him to realise that he wasn't a part of them any more - even if he still didn't really feel a part of the Warblers either. But maybe it was time to start trying a little harder, and to appreciate other members of the club besides Blaine.

Not that he could really do that, though, with Blaine standing right in front of him. Lost in his reverie, Kurt had missed it when Blaine stopped keeping near to Kurt, and instead stepped right in front of him. Trailing his eyes from where they had been fixed on the floor up to Blaine's face, it was hard not to stare. The boy was gorgeous in black skinny jeans and a dove grey button down, emphasising his clean lines in a way that his uniform couldn't.

'Hey there,' Blaine said. His "charming front man" persona was fully in place, and his smile did something odd in Kurt's stomach. 'You look like you're thinking too hard. And that is most certainly not allowed at a party - even a commiseration party. So I was wondering if you wanted to dance instead.'

It wasn't a question, not from Blaine. Kurt smiled and took Blaine's proffered hand, following him to the dance floor just as Wes took the mic. Kurt glanced at the Councillor with mild curiosity - despite his seniority, Wes rarely performed alone. The thought floated past, though, as the music started, and Blaine tugged him close, putting a hand on Kurt's waist.

_Tell me that you want to dance  
>I want to feel your pulse on mine<br>Just treat me like a stolen glance  
>To yourself<em>

The music, despite having a beat, had an almost dreamlike quality to it - wrapped in the atmosphere of the song, Kurt could vividly imagine secret, opulent balls, held in the middle of night by the golden, heady haze of candlelight and incense; and as Blaine pulled him even closer in the swirls of the dance, so close now that their cheeks were almost touching, Blaine's skin took on a golden hue, like he too was a part of the candlelit vision. His eyes turned amber through the haze, sucking Kurt further into the vision, spinning him around the floor...

'Tell me what you were thinking about,' Blaine urged, moving slightly backward to look at Kurt's face, though he still danced. Even Blaine's voice seemed slightly smoother, slightly darker in the flickering light.

_A dark shape on a golden floor  
>A sleeping planet with a molten core<br>From above we'd cut a slow eight shape  
>And much more<em>

_I'm __a __peasant __in __your __princess __arms_  
><em>Penniless <em>_with __only __charm_  
><em>As <em>_we're __levelled __by __the __low, __hot __lights_  
><em>And <em>_disarmed_

'I...' Kurt faltered. His voice wouldn't work, and his head was spinning. He could feel an intoxicating energy pulsing through Blaine, and in the air around them, enthralling him even as it stopped him. His feet kept moving, almost as if they were being carried by the haze, but nothing else would obey Kurt's command.

'You were thinking about McKinley, weren't you?' Blaine asked, pulling Kurt closer again, chests almost flush together. 'Thinking about being with them?'

Kurt nodded dumbly before he'd even thought about it. Caught up in Blaine's arms and the bewitching imaginary veil of candlelight and incense drawn across his mind, he had completely lost his own senses, disarmed and ready to bend to the every will of the other boy. Each breath was drawn with a shudder.

'They're all such individuals,' Blaine said quietly. He twisted his head so he was speaking straight into Kurt's ear, his breath burning hot. 'And you deserve to be there with them. But God, Kurt, I can't help it.' His voice dropped to a whisper. 'I want to keep you here to myself.'

Blaine was shuddering too, breathing heavily. Kurt could feel the other boy's eyelashes tremble against the skin just behind his ear, and it almost broke him. The pair were barely moving now, propping each other up, clinging to each other. The world around them had ceased to exist long ago.

'Come...' Blaine stopped, as if it was all too much for him too, like Kurt wasn't the only one choking on feelings he didn't understand, feelings that _consumed_. 'Come outside with me,' he finally requested. And there would never, _never_ be a time when Kurt could disobey that voice, almost panting into his ear. He followed without a thought.

A storm was coming. Lightning was charging, thunder slowly swelling; the clouds were adding the last few drops to their opening deluge, all preparing to take to the stage in a spectacular opening. Kurt could feel the tension building, stretching the air tight, holding them both on edge; the whole world was waiting for the sky to part like curtains and the storm to begin its show. He was so wired he could hardly move, just waiting, every gasp of air being dragged out of him.

Blaine dragged him into the middle of the gardens just as the rain started to pour, each drop a shock to Kurt's overloaded system. Blaine, stopping and turning to look into Kurt's eyes, could see self-awareness returning to them.

He clutched desperately at Kurt's head with both hands, pressing their foreheads together, already slick with rainwater. 'Don't,' he gasped hoarsely, staring intently at Kurt. 'Don't. Just this once, we have to forget ourselves.' Blaine was trembling as he pressed his mouth to Kurt's, hot and wet. The water was cold, sinking into their hair and their clothes; but their tongues burned when they met, and Kurt painted flames across Blaine's face when he slid his hand over the dripping skin.

The storm raged around them but the boys were lost, sinking to their knees in the grass, pushing their bodies together as their mouths met again and again in kisses that consumed just as much as the feelings did. Each lightning strike lit Kurt's skin up like a star, overbright, and Blaine had to close his eyes and _touch_ instead, hands sliding through soaked hair and down sides and his actions were being mirrored as his hands slid under Kurt's clinging shirt and Kurt's hands blazed up Blaine's torso and God where could this possibly stop, Blaine couldn't breathe and the whole world was spinning...

A thunder clap slashed through the air so loudly that it shook the ground. Kurt gasped and fell backwards slightly, still kneeling in the grass, leaning back on one hand. Blaine jumped to his feet, something still wild in his eyes. He reached down and pulled Kurt to his feet, kissing him again, less passionate and more desperate than the ones before it. His hands frantically stroked down the sides of Kurt's face like he was pleading for something.

And then he broke off and ran, leaving Kurt gasping and bent double in the rain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Kurt woke the next morning shivering slightly, despite the blankets piled on top of him. His pillow was still a little damp from last night's wet hair and the torrent of confused tears that had been his lullaby. He had gone looking for Blaine after the kiss but hadn't been able to find him, not even in the attic. Physically and emotionally exhausted, he had eventually fallen into bed without even bothering to dry off properly. Kurt climbed out of bed and took a look at himself in the mirror; his eyes were red, his face completely white, and two spots of pink burned on his cheeks. His limbs were slightly stiff, too, and his forehead hot. Clearly, he was to pay for last night's moment in the rain in many ways - though he suspected that a fever would soon be the least of his concerns.

Kurt showered and changed quickly, and looked at the clock, realising that lunch was probably almost over by now. He made it down to the dining hall just in time to see the doors close and Blaine wave David and Wes off somewhere. Blaine was just about to walk in the opposite direction, towards the library, when Kurt called to get his attention.

'Blaine!' Kurt's voice sounded the tiniest bit hoarse, but at least it didn't shake.

Something tightened in Blaine's shoulders as he turned to face his best friend. 'Oh, hey, Kurt,' he said quietly, not really looking - until he caught a glimpse of Kurt's face.

'Kurt, are you okay? You look sick. You should go see the nurse. Come on, I'll-'

'Blaine, I don't want to see the nurse. I want to talk to you.' Kurt didn't miss the way Blaine shifted uneasily on the spot.

'No, Kurt, really, you look like you could have a fever. We-'

Kurt glared at Blaine. 'I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me.' Despite the weariness he could already feel tugging at his limbs, Kurt raised his chin defiantly.

The uneasiness had reached Blaine's face now, and a pale echo of the wild look that had been in his eyes just before he ran was returning. 'I really don't think this is a good idea.'

'Blaine, you can't drag me out into the rain, kiss me senseless, leave me there and then _not talk to me about it_! You're better than that! And you owe me an explanation. What were you doing? What are we?'

Blaine grabbed Kurt's wrist - _no hand holding now_, Kurt noted - and dragged him off to a nearby classroom, shutting and locking the door behind them.

'We're best friends, Kurt. You know that.'

Kurt tried to push away his hurt that Blaine could just _deny_ things between them, and let his frustration show instead. 'You kissed me, and not just once. That means something.'

'We were caught up in the moment. I shouldn't have done that. It was inappropriate. I'm sorry. I won't do it again.' Blaine's voice had fallen completely flat. There was absolutely no variation in his tone as he stared at the wall.

'"It was inappropriate"? Blaine, really?' Kurt couldn't help it, now, and let his hurt show. 'It wasn't inappropriate. You had to know that it was amazing. You had to feel that too. Something that felt like that couldn't be inappropriate.'

'It was. We're just best friends, nothing more. We've established that,' Blaine said defensively, still not meeting Kurt's eyes.

'Well, what about everything else, then? All that other behaviour?'

'What behaviour?' Blaine asked stubbornly.

Kurt rolled his eyes, snapping. 'God, Blaine, you could pass yourself off as clueless once, but you can't do it again. Everything that normal best friends don't do: the hand holding, the extra long hugs, the sharing a bed, the dancing pressed so close together you couldn't fit a thing between us. Tell me that's stuff you'd do with David and Wes. Tell me that's nothing!'

'Stop hoping! Please!' Blaine half-shouted over Kurt, and Kurt didn't think he was imagining the agony in Blaine's voice. Their eyes finally met, and Blaine's were full of pain and fear, like a trapped, wild animal. But his words were cruel when he spoke again. 'Look, Kurt, I know you have... feelings... but I thought we covered that already. We're not a romance; I don't feel that way. I thought you'd stopped seeing signs when they're not there. I thought you knew we were always only going to be friends.'

'Seeing signs when _they're not there_?' Kurt' was loud and incredulous. 'Blaine, jumping someone in the middle of a garden in a rainstorm isn't a sign! It's practically a slap in the face!'

'Can we please, _please_ stop talking about last night?'

'What were you running from last night, Blaine?' Kurt asked suddenly. 'When you ran away from me, what were you really running from?'

'Stop. Kurt, stop.'

Kurt walked towards Blaine, who was perched on the edge of a desk. He paused, mere inches away. 'A dazed boy in a wet shirt isn't anything terrifying. What had you so scared?'

'Kurt, please stop,' Blaine pleaded weakly.

'You've announced that you'd fallen in love to all your classmates without a pause,' Kurt said, moving Blaine's face with one hand so their eyes met, and Blaine couldn't look away. 'You've sung to a boy you barely knew in the middle of a busy store. You're the most recklessly brave person I know. Why could you do that, but you couldn't face me?'

Blaine stared at Kurt helplessly for a moment, terror appropriate for someone hanging off the edge of a cliff filling his face, before he seemed to surrender. 'Because those feelings aren't deep,' he muttered. 'They don't matter.'

Kurt stepped back, letting his hand drop. 'I see,' he said evenly. 'And I matter?'

'You know you do.'

'Then _why_,' Kurt asked, his voice rising again, 'did you give me my first real kiss, and then leave me alone to _cry myself to sleep_?'

Blaine winced and turned his face away again, hands shaking. 'Kurt! I - I can't! I'm sorry! I can't!'

'Why are you so afraid of failing something REAL?' Kurt shouted.

'Because it will hurt!'

'And this doesn't hurt already?' Kurt laughed, and it had a hysterical edge. 'Dear God. Either you're really, really good at ignoring your own feelings, or you care a lot less than I thought.'

'But, see, that's the thing, Kurt,' Blaine said. 'You expect me to care - care more than anyone else expects of me. You're always asking for more from me than anyone else. You're always getting me to put more of myself on the line; it doesn't matter if it's in a performance with the Warblers, or in dealing with a difficult situation, or in my relationship with you. And it doesn't matter if you lead by example, consciously provoke me, or just make me want to by the sheer power of your goddamn presence in my life! You're always looking for more feeling and more effort.

'And I can't do that. I'm not brave enough,' Blaine continued, staring at the floor. 'I can't just throw myself out there and hope that my feelings - the _real_ ones - don't get knocked around too badly. I'm not as strong as you. I won't.'

Blaine's timid, sad voice took all the fight out of Kurt. He slumped into a nearby chair and bent over. His head was pounding, and he could practically feel the head radiating off him; his temperature could only have gotten worse over the course of the argument. 'Okay,' he muttered finally. 'You run, then. I won't _make_ you do anything else.'

Blaine walked towards him, but stopped a few feet away. 'Kurt, I don't...'

'As of tomorrow,' Kurt continued, his voice deadpan, 'we'll regress. We'll pretend the last two days never happened, and we'll go back to playing best friends, if that's what you need. But you remember-' Kurt lifted his eyes at this, and they were burning with something stronger than fever. 'You remember that I'll be living a lie for you. And regardless of what was happening at McKinley, I still wasn't doing that.'

With that, Kurt got to his feet and started to walk away slowly, as if his joints were aching - which, Blaine realised, they might be, if was sick. 'Kurt...' he said hesitatingly. 'You're still unwell. I need to take you to the nurse.'

Kurt's back stiffened. 'Blaine, I can be your best friend tomorrow. Right now, though, I just need you to fucking go away. I'm a big boy. I can look after myself.'

Kurt got all the way out the door before Blaine sank to the floor and let the guilt swallow him.

x

Kurt realised pretty quickly that he and Blaine sucked at being best friends. Actively _trying_ to be that didn't work - because they'd never really stuck to the definition of friendship in the first place.

He'd crawled back into his bed after their fight on Saturday night, wanting to just curl up under the covers and die. His fever had brought with it a blocked nose and cold sweats, and by dinner time it had developed into a full-blown flu. Kurt's roommate returned after a weekend at home to find a coughing, snivelling, semi-incoherent wreck on his hands that refused to go anywhere or see anyone. And the misguided roommate, not knowing what else to do, had gotten Blaine to help him.

So Blaine had come sweeping in, tissues and medication in hand and grin fixed firmly in place. Kurt had to admire that - Blaine clearly didn't need much time to pull himself together, and put an act back in place. That was probably why he fit in so well at Dalton, Kurt thought with only the littlest bit of spite. He was so good at hiding.

'I told you you needed to see the nurse,' Blaine said with an exasperatedly fond smile that even Kurt almost bought as genuine. 'You're just going to be sicker for longer now.'

'I don't care,' Kurt sighed, rolling on his back to stare at the ceiling. 'Blaine, go away.'

'No,' Blaine said, and his smile _widened_. Bastard. 'I'm not letting you lie here and torment both yourself and your poor roommate with your illness. I'm going to look after you and keep you quiet. That's what best friends are for.'

'Whatever. Fine,' Kurt muttered. 'Do whatever you want. I'm going to sleep.'

'You're not going to be able to sleep unless you take this cold and flu medication,' Blaine said gently. Kurt seriously thought about ignoring him, but deciding that would be too childish, consented to sit up and swallow the pills. That was as far as his tolerance would last him, though. He lay back down again, facing the wall, determined to drop off.

Blaine hovered by the bedside for a moment, clearly debating something. He eventually sighed and sat down on the floor, knees bent, and leaned back against the side of the bed. When Kurt showed no reaction to this, he pulled out his phone and started to play Angry Birds. The sniffles and coughs from the bed eventually quietened, and then the slightly ragged breathing evened out as Kurt fell asleep.

Kurt awoke, several hours later, to find Blaine in his bed, an arm wrapped around the sick boy's middle. _Oh, is this how we're going to play it? _he thought bitterly. _Blaine, I hate to break it to you, but this isn't friendship. This is a relationship without kisses and the label_.

_And we're not even really lacking kisses any more_, another part of Kurt's brain supplied helpfully.

Kurt lay there for a long time, debating what he should do about Blaine's behaviour. The most self-respecting option was probably to tell Blaine that if they were just going to be friends, then he had to _act_ like it. They'd have to retreat almost entirely back into their own personal spaces, and keep it slightly cooler than they had before. That would probably have the most dignity to it, and if Blaine didn't like it - well, it would only be fair repayment.

On the other hand, as angry as he'd been at Blaine, Kurt didn't want to lose this. The press of a warm, strong chest against his back was becoming something like home here at Dalton. And, as much as he loved Mercedes, he had to admit that this friendship was the best he'd ever had. Even with its unconventionalities and painful moments. And so maybe, maybe, a little pain and loss of dignity was worth it, if he could keep Blaine like this.

Kurt's train of thought was disrupted by a tiny groan from behind him, accompanied by the arm around his waist instinctively pulling him closer. Kurt stiffened, recognising the signs of Blaine waking. Any second now - yep, there was the yawn and the slight kick of the right leg that signalled that Blaine had joined the land of the living.

'Hey,' Blaine muttered sleepily, pulling Kurt onto his back so Blaine could see his face. 'Feeling better?'

'A little,' Kurt said tentatively. He was slightly nervous, to be honest - he could make all the decisions he wanted to about Blaine while the boy was asleep, but in reality, Blaine's own behaviours and reactions would be what dictated the situation. It didn't matter what arena it was - Blaine Anderson was a force to be reckoned with.

'That's good,' Blaine smiled, and absently lifted a hand to push through Kurt's fringe.

Of all things, it was the touch of Kurt's hair that seemed to fully tug Blaine into awareness, far more than the shared bed or the press of their bodies had. He stiffened immediately, and pulled his hand away. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I shouldn't do that. It's...' he paused, and seemed to almost choke on a bitter laugh. 'It's inappropriate.'

And then he was out of Kurt's bed and through the door before anything else could be said or done.

The school nurse confined Kurt to bed rest all Sunday and Monday, and Blaine didn't visit once.

x

Kurt was confused, concerned and hurt.

The last month had been... an awful mix of heaven and hell.

There were times where it seemed he and Blaine really could go back to the way they had been. When they were bouncing around the choir room during Warbler's practice (before Wes pulled them into line) or engaging in playful commentary over the latest edition of _Vogue_, it all felt natural. They were enjoying themselves. But then, as Kurt went to turn a page, Blaine would grab Kurt's hand without thinking about it and interlink their fingers, and Kurt would have to hold his breath. Because soon enough - whether in thirty seconds or half an hour, it didn't matter - Blaine would remember that this wasn't what normal friends _did_. And he would freak out, not meeting Kurt's eyes, until he could find an excuse to leave.

At first, the people around them had been curious. They had both fended off jabs about Blaine's "time of the month" for a week, until Blaine had snapped at David to just _shut up_ already, and subjected his friend to a taste of the same silent treatment that Kurt himself had been suffering at times throughout the week.

Then the questions had turned concerned. After one incident, where Blaine had tripped and fallen into Kurt's arms during an emotionally charged performance and had very nearly kissed the taller boy without thinking about it, Blaine had spent the rest of the day locked in his dorm. Then David had Wes had approached Kurt with real worry on their faces. Petty squabbles were one thing, but it was becoming clear to the boys around them that something was wrong between Kurt and Blaine.

But eventually, even David and Wes had stopped asking questions, and the looks on their faces slowly went from concerned to merely sad.

Because, so subtly no one had noticed, not even Kurt and Blaine, the days had slid from moments of when-will-they-fix-this to when-will-they-fall-apart. Until one afternoon in the attic, listening to John Mayer and not knowing why he wanted to cry, it hit Kurt like a punch hard enough to bend his sternum: he wasn't focussed on trying to spark a relationship any more. He was trying to save one.

Blaine found him half an hour later, still in the attic, slumped carelessly on the floor with tear tracks running down his face.

'Kurt!' he said sharply, rushing over the sit against the wall next to the other boy, and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 'What's wrong?'

Kurt winced, and pushed Blaine's arm away. 'We can't keep doing this.'

Blaine slowly let his arm fall against his side before he asked, 'Doing what?'

'This!' Kurt said, gesturing vaguely to Blaine's arm. 'We act like we're in a relationship one moment, and then you run off scared the next. And we can't keep doing it. It's burning us both alive.'

There was a very long pause in which Kurt looked away and Blaine said nothing. Both of them just stared at the floor, and the dust on their clothes. Eventually, Blaine said, 'You're right,' and Kurt started crying again, just hearing the pain and resignation in Blaine's voice.

And there was that hand on the back of his head again, and the other one on his neck. There was a warm crush of mouths as Blaine kissed Kurt, desperately and needily. The tears on their cheeks mixed together and stung Kurt's raw, swollen skin like acid on an open wound. The pain made him gasp, and as he opened his mouth Blaine plundered it. Blaine tasted like salt and candlelight; and it didn't matter that this kiss was horribly wrong, Kurt still felt like he could fly the entire time their lips touched.

Kurt eventually pulled away, leaving their foreheads pressed together, though his eyes were closed. Blaine let out his first real sob in this entire ordeal. 'You know what happens now, don't you?' Blaine whispered brokenly.

Kurt pressed kisses along the furrows of pain on Blaine's forehead, down his nose, on the bags under Blaine's eyes, and at both corners of his mouth before resting their foreheads on one another's for the last time. Blaine still hadn't opened his eyes.

Kurt took a deep breath, and whispered, 'You run.'


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey everyone! Thank you so much to the four of you who reviewed the last chapter. It means a lot. Particular thanks to stoneborn - I have had this whole fic planned from the beginning, but your request for Blaine POV ended up being what helped the words flow on the beginning of this chapter._

_I know this seems a little heavy on the angst right now, but I promise it's for good purpose! This is also a little shorter than the last couple of chapters, but I really wanted to get this out to you guys, and it felt like the right place to pause before we move on from this time in Kurt and Blaine's lives._**  
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**Chapter Four**

For a week, Blaine had run.

For a week, Kurt wandered around the school like he'd fallen asleep at home and then had woken up to find himself in a strange, unfriendly place. He didn't speak to anyone, not in Warbler's rehearsal or class or at meals. Those who watched the boy - who were admittedly few, since Kurt had never bothered to expand himself beyond Blaine's friendship circle - became very well acquainted with the lost, slightly sad expression that never seemed to leave his face.

For a week, Blaine had kept his distance, and so the Warblers had kept their distance. On the first day after the kiss in the attic, Blaine, Nick and Jeff had been sitting at a table in the cafeteria together at lunch when Kurt walked in, surreptitiously scanning the room. Jeff had raised his arm to wave Kurt over, and before he'd even registered his own actions, Blaine had grabbed Jeff's elbow and jerked the arm down again. Kurt had gone to sit at a table by himself, looking a little sadder than he had before.

It had garnered Blaine a few odd looks, but neither Jeff nor Nick had questioned what Blaine had done. It was a relief. Blaine knew that if he had done that to someone else, and Kurt had been the one sitting at the table, there was no way Blaine could have gotten away with shunning someone like that without facing an inquisition. But these guys didn't question him. _They don't push me for more than I'm willing to give_, Blaine reminded himself, and threw himself into conversation with the two boys with a little more warmth.

For a week, Blaine went through the motions of his life as if Kurt had never existed. He got up, went to class, rehearsed with the Warblers, hung out with his friends, and went to bed again as if that was all he needed, as if he was satisfied. And there was a time when he would have considered it complete. But now it felt empty, like his life should have another dimension, and sometimes it made Blaine want to shout; because _god damn it_, how could Kurt still be pushing Blaine to give more when he wasn't even around?

The biggest cracks showed during rehearsals. Blaine found it almost impossible to get into the songs, no matter how much effort he put into the performances. On the seventh day of not speaking to Kurt, Blaine sat at the piano long after all the other Warblers had gone and tried song after song. He flicked through almost the entire contents of his iPod, trying them on the piano or just singing them. Nothing drained away the feelings in his chest. In a fit of childish frustration, he flung out a foot and kicked the piano.

He had always used his music to act out his feelings and throw them on display. There had always been a song out there to help channel his emotion into something constructive. Why, now of all times, was it failing him?

A memory flashed through his head, of himself a little over a month ago. _Because those feelings aren't deep_, he'd told Kurt. _They don't matter._

Oh. So that was it, then. The songs didn't fit because nothing in the top forty could express feelings that ran this deep.

Just another example of Kurt demanding more from him. Even now. Blaine kicked the piano again.

x

The next afternoon, when Blaine walked into the cafeteria and headed for his friends, he was struck with an unusual sight: Kurt and David were sitting together in the corner, both leaning forward as through involved in an intense conversation. Kurt's face had a new expression on it for the first time in days, and it kept shifting even as Blaine watched. It went from defensive to vaguely thankful to amused in the space of about a minute. Eventually, Kurt pushed something towards David and dismissed him with an imperious wave of a hand that made Blaine smile, before he kept walking.

David and Blaine reached the table where the rest of their friends were sitting at the same time. David appeared a little dazed. 'Kurt's so small, and he's so quiet most of the time,' David said to no one in particular, 'that you almost forget about the whirlwind he can be when he's got a purpose.' The boy shook his head, clearing his thoughts, before turning to Blaine. He was smirking. 'Kurt said to give you these,' he said, and thrust a stack of CDs into Blaine's hands, 'so that, and I quote, "There might actually be a piano left standing in Dalton by the time Blaine's found a song that suits him right now."'

Blaine tried not to think about how much he really, really just missed his best friend. He took the CDs up to his dorm without even eating lunch, and started to listen.

By seven that evening, Blaine was back in the choir room, equipped with new sheet music and unaccountably nervous. He hadn't tried singing the song yet, but something about the lyrics had jumped out at him. He wasn't entirely sure why; a lot of these lyrics weren't sentiments that had crossed his conscious thought. But maybe, just maybe, they might be whatever those deeper feelings were trying to say. And maybe, if he was lucky, those deeper feelings would settle for being expressed once and then going away and letting Blaine live his life.

Well, it was worth a try.

The song was meant for a much different set up, and didn't even make use of a piano, but Blaine had spent awhile fiddling with an arrangement, translating guitar into piano without much trouble. Closing his eyes for a moment, Blaine put his fingers on the keys and began to sing.

_I'm trying my best to be alright  
>I'm trying my best to be everything you need<br>But nothing seems to be alright  
>And I don't seem to be anything you need<em>

There it was. The loosening in his chest that Blaine had been searching for madly all week, the sheer relief of _expression_. Letting his voice slide over the dark notes of the song, Blaine kept going.

_This all happened so quickly  
>One day everything's here, the next it's gone<br>And I don't know how to cope now  
>Knowing all that I've known has gone away<em>

The pangs of loneliness hit again. He really did miss Kurt like... well, there was no comparison. He'd never missed anyone this badly before. No one had inserted themselves into his life quite so deeply or quite so well. Kurt had been the one wandering around with the lost expression on his face, but if Blaine was brave enough to admit it to himself, he was the one wearing it on his thoughts and his actions. To have Kurt ripped away had left him reeling and confused, with no one to lean on. Hell, just to get here, to be able to express himself, he'd still needed Kurt's help.

So why was he avoiding Kurt? What could possibly be keeping him away, if he needed his friend that much?

_Does anyone know what it feels like on display?  
>Or am I the only one who's having trouble<br>Letting go of life behind me_

And there seemed to be the core problem. Blaine felt constantly exposed to the world, but he seemed to be the only one who felt this way. The only one who was afraid to delve deep into himself and pull it out, knowing others were watching. The only one who held onto past abuse and pain and couldn't let himself forget how it had felt. Kurt didn't seem to have the same problem.

Blaine had tried to let himself forget. He really, really had. But maybe he would _always_ just be the one that ran. Maybe he'd keep running from everything.

_I'm sorry I made you feel empty  
>I'm sorry I made it so hard to love me<br>When nothing seems to be alright  
>I'll try my best to be everything you need<em>

Blaine had completely lost himself in the song by this point. It was so glorious just to let his voice fly again, even in a song with such pain. But then Blaine's eyes flew up off the sheet music to stare over the piano, because another voice was rising. A voice that _owned_ the last two verses. A voice that had something to say to Blaine.

Kurt stared hard at Blaine as he stepped into the room and took over the song.

_Don't cover your eyes when it's raining outside_  
>'<em>Cause I won't let you go blind to the world<br>All that we take from every smile we fake  
>Is another mistake of who we are<em>

Kurt's voice climbed, pushing out with a force Blaine had never heard from him. He belted out the last three lines, still staring at Blaine.

_Don't cover your eyes  
>Don't cover your eyes<br>Don't cover your eyes_

Blaine skipped the instrumental at the end, and silence took over.

'Please, Blaine,' Kurt said. 'Please stop hiding from your feelings. Please stop faking who you are. I'll protect you when you're vulnerable, but you need to stop hiding.'

Blaine didn't look up. He sang the first verse over again in his head. 'I just want my best friend back,' he eventually said.

Kurt left.

x

Ten days after the last kiss in the attic, Kurt was walking past the choir room when he heard Blaine's voice. He stopped out of habit, before he remembered that he shouldn't do that any more. Blaine's life had been rather forcibly proved to be none of his business. But by that point, he'd already heard the other voice in the room - Andrew, a senior that wasn't in the Warblers, and Kurt didn't know well. He hadn't thought Blaine knew Andrew that well either. Kurt drew closer to the half-open door.

'So, what was it that you were after, Blaine?' Andrew asked.

Blaine's voice sounded light, but Kurt could hear that the boy was forcing it. 'I was hoping you might do more than hang out in the choir room sometime. Maybe even make it off campus. We could go see a movie.'

There was a pause that was just long enough for Kurt's heart to shatter all over again.

Andrew, when he responded, spoke slowly. Kurt wished he could see either of the boys' faces, but there was no way to do it without being detected.

'What about that Hummel kid? Kurt?'

'What about Kurt?' Blaine asked. His tone was so strained now, the lightness _so_ forced, that even Andrew had to pick up on it.

'Blaine, there's no way you can pull that on me. Sorry, but the whole school can see there's something that needs to be dealt with there.'

'It's been dealt with,' Blaine said shortly.

Andrew actually laughed. 'If you say so, Blaine.' His voice still held amusement as he continued. 'Sorry, man. I'm not getting in the middle of that, no matter how hot you are.'

Kurt left, and started heading for the attic, before he changed his mind, and went to his room instead. His brain was whirling so fast he couldn't think.

No matter how many times he tried, no matter what he did, Kurt couldn't seem to get through. Blaine kept trying to run, no matter what. And he seemed prepared to run straight into someone else's arms, if that's what kept him from feeling things he didn't want to acknowledge.

Bitterness welled up Kurt's throat, so violently Kurt could taste it. He started to think about the things _he_ hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Like the part of him that kept longing for a place where no one hid who they were. Where everyone stood proud, and not just proud of the image they portrayed.

Kurt looked down, and realised that his hands had still been moving while he'd been thinking. Without even noticing, he'd already packed half a suitcase.

x

After dinner, Blaine trudged up to his room, unenthused by the prospect that awaited him: time alone with Latin homework and his own thoughts. He'd told Wes what Andrew had said, about something needing to be dealt with, and Wes hadn't disagreed. That wasn't something Blaine wanted to address.

He reached his door, the last on the corridor, to find a note taped to it. Reading the first line, Blaine immediately recognised the lyrics - they were from the same CD as "Don't Cover Your Eyes".

_She walks on by  
>It's better if I stand to the side<br>And let her catch her breath  
>Who am I<br>To tell her she's asleep?  
>She's happier, it seems<em>

Something like dread filled Blaine's stomach. Ripping the note off the door, Blaine flung himself down the nearest flight of stairs, and ran to Kurt's door, hammering on it at a rate that was near-frantic. When it opened, it was to reveal Kurt's roommate.

'Hey!' Blaine said, forcing a smile. 'I was just looking for Kurt.'

The always well-meaning roommate smiled sympathetically. 'Sorry, man, you've missed him by about half an hour.'

'Oh,' Blaine said. He paused, wondering if he could bring himself to ask what was running through his head, before finally settling on, 'Do you know when he'll be back?'

'He won't be, I don't think.' _No. No no no. _'His dad came to help move all his stuff already. He said he was going back to McKinley.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Time passed differently at McKinley.

At Dalton, time had been easily measured. Each day seemed to take up its allotted space, with a certain number of events proceeding in a stream that was, if nothing else, at least always constant. At McKinley, though, it seemed like time jumped along on a whim; sometimes, a day would seem to last forever, and at others, a whole week disappeared. Kurt found that he couldn't actually track the passage of time by regular methods any more; instead, he found himself tracking it by events.

He'd arrived back at McKinley just in time to get caught in the headlong rush for Nationals. He put as much effort as he could into the preparations, and almost felt that it made up for him not actually _earning_ his spot in New York. Every time a little voice in his head reminded Kurt that he'd actually been on the losing team at Regionals, he shut it up and put a little more time into this costume or that rehearsal.

Kurt's roommate had sent him a text the day he'd left Dalton, letting him know Blaine had come looking for him, but since then there had been a solid silence from the school. Kurt hadn't really expected anything more; even before Kurt had left, he'd already lost his friends there. Because really, they were always Blaine's friends, and Kurt had just been an extension of Blaine. So when Kurt had been cut free, he had ceased to exist for most of the boys there.

Which was why it was surprising to hear from David, when the older boy had called and asked Kurt if he wanted to have coffee together. And then time seemed to do one of those funny leaps between the phone call and the time David had set, so Kurt was even more surprised to find himself sitting at a table opposite the Warbler, trying not to look too confused.

'So, how have you been, Kurt?' David asked, peering into the other boy's face with what seemed to be honest concern.

'The classes are easier, but the kids are harsher,' Kurt said softly. He wasn't leaning back in his chair because there were bruises on his back from where Karofsky had pushed him into a locker. 'And New Directions is crazy enough to distract myself from both.'

'You guys ready for Nationals?'

Kurt laughed lightly. 'No,' he said. 'But we perform best when we're loose. We just try to make sure our voices are in good shape, and I make sure the costumes look good, and we figure out the rest as we go.'

David looked at Kurt in mild disbelief. 'And that _works_?'

'For us, it does. Mostly.'

'Well, let me know how it goes for you in the big leagues,' David said with a slight smirk.

They both paused for a moment, before Kurt asked, 'So... how are you? How are things at Dalton?'

'I'm fine. Dalton's the same as always. The teachers are tough. The nursing homes we perform in are friendly. The choir room is still a kangaroo court.'

Kurt was startled to find that he smiled fondly at that. Somewhere, he did miss the Warblers as a group. But then his smile faded. 'And how... how is...' He couldn't do it. Kurt closed his eyes and breathed deeply. 'David, not that I'm not happy to see you, but why are you here?'

David scrutinised Kurt for a second. 'I realised, the other day, that Blaine hadn't mentioned you once since you left.'

_Well, clearly he thinks I can take the raw truth_, Kurt thought wryly. Oddly, knowing that David was trusting him to handle it made it hurt less. Kurt sat up a little straighter.

David smiled gently. 'Blaine _seemed_ to forget you the moment you left, so we actually did it.' David sent Kurt an intensely apologetic look. 'You know that no one really questions Blaine Anderson. It's almost become automatic for us to just go along with whatever he wants to do, because when he decides something, he's indomitable. So when he decided to forget you, you just dropped out of our minds. And Blaine seemed fine, to be honest. He gets involved with everything, gets good grades and is the life of the party... In fact, you probably wouldn't have come back to mind at all, had it not been for this damn song.'

'Song?' Kurt asked curiously. He brushed aside all the hurtful things David was saying, knowing they weren't intentionally painful - just an honest account of the way things were.

'Yeah. Blaine acts the same way that he always has, except for this one song that he keeps playing and singing over and over again. "She Walks" by Language Room. He just keeps going over it, singing it different ways and writing out bits of the lyrics in class. It's kind of almost like it's haunting him.' David stopped, snorting. 'It's damn well haunting the rest of us. It's driving me crazy. I _dream_ it, I've heard it so many times.'

Kurt laughed, but didn't say anything. He knew David wasn't done with his story yet.

'So I knew that something had to be wrong with Blaine,' David said, 'no matter how hard he was trying to hide it. And I thought about it, thought back to how rough you two had been going before you left; and then I went back even further, to when you guys were friends. And I remembered just how _happy_ Blaine was. Happier than he'd ever been. And I ended up wondering what could possibly have happened to tear you guys apart like that? How did you get from A to B?

'I remembered the stack of CDs you gave me for Blaine, the week he was going crazy. You seemed to still really care; you weren't mad at him. So I realised that it had to only be Blaine pushing you away. You weren't pushing him.'

Kurt tensed. He'd been impressed, so far, by the thought David had clearly put into this, and the conclusions he was coming to. But surely the logical conclusion to draw at this point was that Kurt had done something to make Blaine shun him. Was that why David was here? To demand to know what Kurt had done, and to tear him apart on behalf of Blaine?

But David still had that apologetic look on his face. 'Blaine's not perfect, Kurt, but he has a lot of really good qualities, and one of those is a very forgiving heart. As soon as I thought it all through and worked out that he was the only one driving you guys apart, I knew it couldn't have been something you'd done. Blaine would have gotten over it and forgiven you. I realised that Blaine had to have done something. But you weren't ignoring him. So he had to have done something he couldn't face you for.

'I'm so, so sorry, Kurt,' David said, leaning forward with an earnest expression. 'Had I worked all this out sooner, I wouldn't have just gone along with what Blaine wanted. I would have been there for you and fought for you. And I'm sorry for whatever Blaine did.'

Kurt choked back tears, feeling a rush of affection for the Dalton boy. 'Thank you, David,' he said. 'I... really appreciate your support. But it's nothing Blaine did, honestly. We were just... different people. Too different.'

David stared at Kurt in slight disbelief. Kurt scrutinised David as the other boy had done to him at the start of the conversation. In a snap decision, he lowered his voice and he sang softly, '_Who am I to tell her she's asleep? She's happier, it seems_.'

David's eyes widened in sudden understanding. 'That note Blaine carries around, with the chorus of "She Walks" on it... that's your handwriting.'

'He carries around my note?' Kurt asked. He didn't know what to feel about that.

'Kurt, I don't know what Blaine did, and I get the feeling you're not going to tell me. But I think, at least if Blaine's obsession with the song is any indication, he's _not_ happier being "asleep".'

_It doesn't matter. He's made his choice. _Kurt wasn't going to cry in front of David, no matter how nice the boy was being. He wouldn't do it. 'Tell me...' he croaked, looking away. 'Tell me about how Nick and Jeff are going.'

David smiled sadly, and put his hand over Kurt's for a second. They spent the rest of the time together chatting lightly in a way they'd never managed at Dalton. When they left, it was with plans to meet up again a few days later.

Over the next few weeks, Kurt met David for coffee every three or four days, along with many other Warblers. David usually managed to find at least one other to bring along, usually Wes or Nick. Kurt came to actually look forward to his time with the Dalton boys; it was a nice break from McKinley. As much as he loved the school, it still had its serious flaws. For one, the drama in New Directions was _insane_. Jesse St James had returned to Lima, and Finn appeared to be able to barely contain his jealousy; there had been a lot of speculation that Quinn was cheating with Sam, who it turned out, was living in a motel; and Brittany and Artie had had a messy break up. Kurt wanted to shout at them all to just _grow up_ already and be thankful that they could at least _try_ for normal relationships.

The other big problem was the... bullying. Kurt tried to think about it as little as possible. Needless to say, Karofsky hadn't mellowed during Kurt's absence. The football player was a lot more subtle than he'd previously been, to be fair, but that didn't mean he was any less harsh. And now his bullying and his threats were augmented by taunts that Kurt had tried to run. It was almost enough to send Kurt back to Dalton, broken and burning heart or not.

Kurt met David, Wes, Jeff and another Warbler, Simon, the morning before prom. Kurt was planning on going with Rachel's group as part of "prom on a budget", which the prep school boys seemed to find as hilarious as it was foreign to them. They ribbed Kurt gently for awhile, before moving on to relate the misadventures that had apparently occurred at the latest nursing home performance that the Warblers had done.

'And then,' Simon spluttered, giggling, 'Patrick tripped over Nick, hit the floor and slid halfway across the room, and ended up with his head under this little old lady's chair... looking right up her skirt!'

The Dalton boys laughed raucously at this, reliving what was clearly going to become a favourite Warbler memory. Kurt smiled, and asked idly, 'Who's Patrick? Is he new?'

He wasn't expecting the immediate affect that this would have on his companions, who all froze. 'Yeah, he's a sophomore, just joined the Warblers a couple of weeks ago,' Wes said airily.

Kurt surveyed the boys around him bemusedly. 'And what, is he causing drama or something?'

Wes and David exchanged a look, before David sighed. He gave Kurt another one of those looks, that Kurt was becoming very familiar with - one that said, _I'm telling you something you're not going to like, because I know you can deal with it_. 'Patrick only auditioned for the Warblers about a fortnight ago... when he started dating Blaine.'

It shouldn't hurt like this. Kurt had kissed Blaine and fought him and lost him and had already heard Blaine asking other people out. Hell, he'd left to get out of Blaine's way, so Blaine could keep on living his life, including dating others. But to hear that Blaine was dating someone else, sharing kisses with someone else... _Though they probably didn't feel like fire, kissing in the rain..._

Kurt didn't remember the rest of his time with the Dalton boys, or getting ready for prom with Mercedes and Rachel. Dinner at Breadstix passed in a blur as time jumped again. The first thing he remembered was standing in the hall at prom, with Puck pushing a glass of punch into his hand. 'Dude, enjoy it. I didn't spike it with cheap shit,' Puck said to Kurt, his voice strangely... paternal. 'You look like you could use the drink.'

Between dances with Rachel and Mercedes and even Sam, Kurt kept drinking the punch. It wasn't working as fast as he wanted it to, though, so he approached Puck again as the thumping beat of a Good Charlotte song started to play in the background. 'You know how you said I looked like I could use a drink?' Kurt said bluntly. 'Well, I really could.' Puck smirked and surreptitiously handed over a flask, which Kurt drained, ignoring the burn as much as he could. 'Thanks,' he gasped, and Puck clapped him on the back. 'I owe you one.'

'Anything for my boy, Kurt,' Puck said. 'Now go dance with Rachel again. That Jesse dude is creeping me out.' So Kurt did, walking over to Rachel and starting to move to the beat.

_Everybody put up your hands  
>Say I don't want to be in love<br>I don't want to be in love  
>Feel the beat now<br>If you've got nothing left  
>Say I don't want to be in love<br>I don't want to be in love_

Kurt threw his hands up in the air, jumping around. He sang along with the music, thinking of Blaine, and then tried really hard not to think of Blaine. Blaine _hurt_. The world was starting to spin. He was vaguely aware of Rachel giving him slightly odd looks, but he kept dancing.

_Back it up now  
>You've got a reason to live<br>Say I don't want to be in love  
>I don't want to be in love<br>Feeling good now  
>Don't be afraid to get down<br>Say I don't want to be in love  
>I don't want to be in love<em>

The world was doing more than spinning now. Kurt felt like he was about to fall over at any moment, and his hands were getting heavy so he had to put them down; he also got the sense that he might not be moving to the beat any more. Starting to feel very sick, he stumbled outside to sit on the cool pavement.

He hadn't been out there long, breathing slowly in and out, trying to get the world to stop moving, when he heard heavy footsteps, and the loud laughter of two boys. Looking up, and trying to ignore the funny things that did to his balance, Kurt saw that Karofsky and Azimio were approaching. And, judging by their swaying walk and slurred shouts, they were probably as drunk as Kurt was.

Part of Kurt's brain was scared by this, and tried to have him climb to his feet. The rest of his brain wouldn't cooperate, though, and he stayed on the pavement. The bigger boys spotted him and ambled over, and still his uncooperative limbs refused to move.

'What are you doing here, faggot?' Karofsky asked, sneering. 'Shouldn't you be inside, doing fairy dances or some shit?'

'Shut the fuck up, you closet case,' Kurt sneered. Something inside him was screaming at him to stop, that this was really, _really_ stupid, and that he should be running. But his mouth kept going. 'You just wish you were in there dancing with me.'

The first kick made contact with his ribs, and knocked Kurt clear onto the ground, and then everything was a disorienting haze of pain. Blows to his legs, stomach and back seemed to be coming from everywhere. Kurt tried to move, and got onto his elbows; a dress shoe was driven into his arm, and he fell face-first back onto the concrete. A blow to his head mad everything fuzzy, so fuzzy that the whole world looked like it was melting...

Was that a scream?

The kicks stopped. A voice was over him, possibly most the annoying voice in the whole world, but such a beautiful relief now. The tiny hand on his face was so soft, as was the pink lap his head was lowered onto. Everything went grey, and Kurt couldn't see but he could still feel the _agony_.

The only relief was the tears that fell from Rachel's eyes; they were almost soothing on his grazed skin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

'Hey man, you busy?'

Blaine, settled on his bed, looked up from his Latin homework to see David's head poking through the doorway. The older book looked unusually sombre.

'Not particularly,' Blaine said with a sigh, looking down at his book wearily. 'Trying to do homework, but it's not cooperating at all. Why? What's up? Troubles in David land?'

'No,' David said, shifting uncomfortably. 'A bunch of us were going to see Kurt. I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come with us.'

Blaine frowned, irritated. 'I told you, David, that I think it's great you're seeing Kurt so regularly, but like _he_ apparently said, we're just different people. We're not good for each other.' The lie - and that Kurt was still living a lie for his friend, just as he'd said he would - choked Blaine every time, and he had to swallow slightly before continuing. 'Besides, you heard Patrick. He's uncomfortable with me hanging around Kurt.'

David eyed Blaine sceptically, stepping fully into the room and standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. 'And you're going to let the insecure demands of a boy you've been dating for two weeks get in the way of _this_?'

'Get in the way of what?' Blaine asked, starting to feel a bit incredulous himself. He wasn't used to arguing with his friends, but David had been pushing the Kurt issue more and more lately and it was starting to drive Blaine mad. 'It's just coffee!'

David actually gaped at Blaine. Dropped his arms and stared in sheer disbelief. Something very uneasy started to stir in the pit of Blaine's stomach - David, for all that he had been interfering, always stayed quite composed. This was new, and Blaine didn't want to know why.

'Shit,' David muttered, staring at Blaine like he didn't know the boy sitting before him. 'Maybe I was wrong, and this isn't just an act. Maybe you actually don't care at all.'

'Care?' Blaine snapped, starting to panic a little bit more on the inside. This wasn't like David. 'What's going on? What don't I know?'

'You honestly missed it?'

'Missed_ what? _This is getting ridiculous!'

'Kurt's been in hospital since the night before last. Two guys from his school got drunk at prom and kicked the shit out of him.'

Oh.

Oh... oh my... oh my _God._

Blaine felt like someone had kicked the shit out of _him_ instead. There were stabbing pains in his chest, and his windpipe might have collapsed. The room was shaking, blurred by tears. He- he couldn't even describe this feeling. The terror-agony-_regret-_anger-horror flying through his veins so fast his heart was going to give way, his brain was shutting down and imploding, and still he couldn't _breathe_...

'Woah, woah, Blaine!' Someone was shouting at him, shaking his shoulder. 'Crap, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dropped that on you like that, I was just so _mad_. Come on, man, snap out of it.'

Two warm hands, digging into his shoulders like vices, grounded Blaine slightly. He still couldn't see straight, but he managed to gasp out, 'How did you know? Why the fuck didn't you _tell_ me?'

'His brother told me, but it's been all over his Facebook wall, too, everyone constantly asking for information about how he is. And we were all talking about it yesterday; I could have sworn you'd heard.'

But then David remembered that Blaine had seemed spaced out yesterday, his mask still in place but nothing behind it. He sighed, dropping his hands from Blaine's shoulders, and saying sadly, 'You were so busy thinking about him that you completely missed us _talking_ about him, didn't you?' When he got no response, he continued, 'We have to go if we're going to get there in visiting hours, and you're obviously in no state to come. Just don't stay here alone, ok? Go to the senior commons or call Patrick or something. Don't torture yourself.'

_Yeah. You wouldn't want to torture yourself the way you tortured Kurt, would you? _Blaine's thoughts taunted. He twisted his hands into the bedcovers and didn't acknowledge David, who left with a last concerned glance.

It took Blaine half an hour to come back to himself, to pull the pain back down to manageable levels so he could become aware of anything else again.

_Oh, Kurt_. His mind was full of pictures of two lines of handwriting, neatly printed on a piece of paper that was safely tucked inside the pocket of Blaine's bag. _She walks on by, it's better if I stand to the side and let her catch her breath_...

Kurt had left. Left for Blaine, because Blaine had been scared, scared of getting his pathetic _feelings_ hurt. And so Kurt, who was so very beautifully brave, had gotten hurt instead. Hurt badly enough to land him in hospital.

Knowing Wes would probably be driving, Blaine sent David a message. _What's wrong with him? How bad is it?_

There was a long pause, each second marked by a painful, cracking beat of Blaine's heart. Eventually a reply came. _You're alone, aren't you? Blaine, go to the commons or something, please._

For a minute Blaine just stared at the screen with helpless fury, before his phone vibrated again. _A few broken ribs, a concussion, and a hell of a lot of bruising. He got off lighter than he could have because Rachel went looking for him and interrupted them._

Blaine cried for almost an hour, despite the fact that feelings this strong and sad were supposed to have left his life when he'd shut Kurt out.

Eventually, Blaine pulled himself together and logged onto his computer, wanting to see the posts that had been made to Kurt's Facebook wall. What he saw sparked mixed emotions. Kurt's wall was packed full of messages of concern, sympathy and love. People were all inquiring about how he was, sending him their support and telling him how amazing he was. And on one hand, it was great that Kurt had so many people who clearly embraced his individuality in the way it seemed only McKinley could, and wanted to be there for him. Blaine hadn't ever had a group of friends quite like that.

But it made Blaine so angry that all these people were so eager to help now, now that the bullies were out of the way and Kurt was seriously injured. Where had they all been when the bullying had first started to get out of hand? Where had they been while Kurt was _attacked_ at his own prom? Hell, where had Kurt's so-called brother been this whole time? McKinley could embrace Kurt's quirks as much as it pleased, but that didn't matter for shit if they were still letting him get hurt.

Blaine's phone buzzed, and he snatched it up to read, _Kurt seems to be doing ok. He'll probably go home tomorrow afternoon._

The message deflated Blaine's anger immediately and brought the guilt back in. He had no right to be angry at New Directions or any of the McKinley students. Not when he was the one who had driven Kurt back to that hellhole in the first place, and couldn't even be the friend that Kurt deserved.

Blaine didn't sleep the entire night. He ignored the world around him, wandering in circles around his own head until it hurt too much to think any more, and all he could do was stare at the wall closest to his bed. When everyone rose for classes the next morning, it was all too easy to convince the nurse that he needed a day off; she took one look at his pale, haggard face and had wrote him a pass.

It should have been harder to rebuff Patrick without causing a scene. The boy, while cheerful and generally easy-going, had an insecure streak a mile wide that had to be carefully managed. But Blaine handled his boyfriend dispassionately, shaking him off without effort; part of him was disturbed by how easy it really was, and how little emotion was involved in their interaction, even when he was basically kicking his boyfriend out with no explanation. But that was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? Simple, safe, keeping his heart protected?

Blaine went to see Kurt.

x

There was one phrase Kurt kept repeating. People crowded his bedside, pouring out their sympathy or regret, tactfully ignoring his torn skin and bruises, and consoling him about his ribs and concussion. Kurt would just smile weakly, gesture to the IV in his hand and say, 'Well, at least I'm not in any pain.'

And it was true that, at least, his head and ribs weren't hurting at all. That pain had been carried off by the river of analgesics flowing through his veins, courtesy of a very sympathetic doctor with a soft spot for persecuted teenagers. But there was still a tight, swollen feeling in his chest and a lump in his throat that no drug was taking away; and Kurt knew that it probably had very little to do with the work that had been done by Karofsky's shoe, and everything to do with the few memories the concussion hadn't taken away from that day. Dancing to Good Charlotte, swilling Puck's entire flask, coffee with David - David leaning over, expecting Kurt to handle this blow just like all the rest, and explaining who Patrick was.

It was a Tuesday, so most of the people who had been lingering in his room had been forced to leave for school or work. Burt, however, seemed to be able to sense that his son was still in pain, even if he couldn't tell that it was emotional instead of physical. He was being stubborn about staying.

'Dad, please just go. You can't leave Jack to run the shop without supervision - he'll blow it up. You know he will,' Kurt said wearily.

'I'm not comfortable leaving you when you're seriously unwell,' Burt said. 'You still look like you're in pain, and I'm worried about you getting confused or something.'

Kurt rolled his eyes. This was turning out into an exact replay of the same argument that they'd had yesterday - that had ended with his father going to work.

'I'm fine, Dad,' he said evenly, but with a subtle undercurrent of belligerence. 'I haven't had a bout of confusion since Sunday night, and besides, I'm supposed to be sleeping.' He looked askance at the TV, which his family had spent significantly more time in the last two days watching than he himself had. 'How am I supposed to sleep with you here making noise?'

Burt sighed, gathering up his personal belongings. 'I should know better than to argue with you by now, shouldn't I?' he asked in what passed for fond exasperation. 'Fine, I'll go to work. But no leaving bed to go look for the latest copy of _Vogue_, or whatever it is you read. You'd better stay in bed and sleep until I get back to pick you up this afternoon.' And with that stern command, Burt went to work.

Kurt flopped back onto his pillows with a slight huff, wincing when that sparked a sharp jab in his chest and throb in his head. It was clearly almost time for another dose of whatever wonder pill his doctor had prescribed him. He snuggled down deeper, honestly planning on sleeping - or at least attempting to. New Directions was leaving for New York in nine days, and he was damned if a drunken altercation that he couldn't even remember was going to stop him from getting on that plane. If he had to sleep every hour except for rehearsals to get well in time, then he would.

He'd barely had time to get properly comfortable - even with the painkillers, a dull ache let Kurt know when his sleeping position wasn't good for his ribs - when there was a cough at the door. Thinking it was one of the nurses, Kurt rolled his head without much enthusiasm.

Instead, there was Blaine. Blaine, with huge bruises under his eyes, a pale face and shaking hands.

Oh.

Kurt kind of almost wished he hadn't sent his dad away, after all.

x

The first thing Blaine noticed when he entered Kurt's hospital room was that the boy was thinner. David had mentioned at some point that Kurt wasn't looking as healthy as he once had, but Blaine had resolutely ignored him at the time. It was hard to ignore, though, seeing Kurt's frame as he lay on his side, faced away from the door. It wasn't like he was skeletal, but there was a new sharpness to the shape of his shoulder, and you could see the curve of his shoulder blade so clearly, even under his loose shirt. Blaine coughed to stifle a gasp.

Kurt rolled to face the door, and for Blaine it was like finding out that Kurt had been hurt all over again. The boy's face was covered in marks; all the skin running down one side of the face had been badly grazed by what looked like asphalt, and a large blue-purple patch bloomed over the other cheekbone.

On recognising Blaine, Kurt sat up abruptly and the sheet fell away from him to reveal his torso, covered only by a light t-shirt. The terror-agony-regret-anger-horror was back again, swallowing Blaine whole without even trying. Kurt was scraped and bruised _everywhere_. Blaine's eyes were immediately drawn to a huge, ugly contusion that appeared to cover most of Kurt's upper arm, wrapping half way around and extending up into the sleeve of his shirt. _Storm clouds_, Blaine though dazedly. Especially against the snowy white of Kurt's skin, the heavy, violent swell of purple and deep red looked exactly like a storm cloud at sunset, ready to burst.

His eyes slowly drifted down further to see a bandage on Kurt's wrist. 'David said you only had broken ribs and a concussion,' Blaine mumbled, breaking his own reverie.

This seemed to startle Kurt out of whatever train of thought he'd been following, too. Glancing down to pick at the wrapping on his wrist, Kurt said, 'It's a very slight sprain, probably from when I first hit the ground. The bandage comes off tomorrow.'

'Probably?'

'I don't remember. I was drunk, and the concussion wiped most of my memories of the night. Karofsky and Azimio aren't talking about what happened, either.'

Kurt lifted his face again and their eyes locked. Just for a moment, Blaine was lost in something far more beautiful than any emotion he'd felt since that last kiss in the attic, oh so long ago. It felt so good that it broke his heart all over again.

'You have to come back to Dalton,' he said abruptly. 'You're not safe at McKinley now. This more than proves it.'

Kurt's eyes narrowed, and the beauty of the moment was lost. 'I was never safe. I chose to go back, knowing the risks. You're several weeks too late if you're going to try to convince me that Dalton's worth it just to be protected. Besides,' Kurt laughed hollowly, 'McKinley is now safer than it's ever been. The guys who did this are gone and they aren't returning.'

'But, Kurt, Dalton has a zero tolerance policy. Two guys gone doesn't mean the whole school will change. At Dalto-'

'Blaine, you don't get to have an opinion,' Kurt snapped, cutting in with surprising heat. 'You've well and truly lost the right to have any say in my life.'

Blaine softened, his face filling with remorse. 'I know, and I'm sorry. You have no idea. It's just... I...' Would he ever have an exchange with this boy in front of him where he didn't get lost for words? 'Kurt, I really am serious when I say you should come back to Dalton for your own safety. I know I've been a complete ass, but I'll try really hard to make things easier for you, and now you've made friends with David school won't be painful at all...' Blaine was rambling; it seemed that once his mouth actually got working, it couldn't figure out how to stop.

'Blaine, I know you saw my note - David told me. Do you really think school being painful was the tipping factor for me?'

Blaine was confused. 'I understood the message behind "She Walks", I'm pretty sure, and you can't know how guilty I am about you leaving just so I could keep living in my own little dream world. But you'd been pretty much letting me do that for a month before you left. I just assumed you...' he paused, having just realised how insulting this would sound to someone as strong as Kurt. 'I just assumed the final straw was when you couldn't take being alone like that any more.'

Blaine had tortured himself with that thought often enough since Kurt had left that he could almost get it out without flinching now. As deeply flawed as he was, he still didn't think of himself as a particularly cruel person. But ostracising Kurt, out of nothing more than fear and sheer ignorance of his actions, was one of the lowest things he had ever done. He was slowly reconciling himself to that.

Kurt, however, was glaring at Blaine with an outraged incredulousness that surpassed even David's from the day before. He was fully pushed away from his pillows now, spine drawn up stiff and straight, faced flushed in a way that couldn't be good for someone unwell enough to be in _hospital_. But Blaine couldn't think about that because even with the bruise on his cheek, Kurt was still stunning.

'Blaine, when you met me, I had already gotten through two and a half years at McKinley, most of those without friends,' Kurt said icily. 'Did you really think that a bit of indifference and isolation at an otherwise friendly school would bother me enough to go back to a place with a boy who threatened to kill me?'

Well, when you put that perspective on it... 'Why, then? What could have possibly been enough to drive you back?'

'What's Patrick like?'

Blaine blinked. 'What?' he asked, thrown completely off balance.

'Your boyfriend, Patrick. Does he deserve you?'

'What on earth does this have to do with why you left Dalton?'

Kurt pulled himself shakily out of bed, grabbing a hold of his IV and walking over to Blaine, who had never come further than just inside the doorway.

'Blaine, you're so blind,' Kurt said, almost gentle, his voice so soothing after all the anger of before. 'I was there, in the corridor, the day you asked Andrew out.' Kurt reached over to open the front pocket of Blaine's bag, still hanging off his shoulder. Blaine couldn't think with Kurt so close. The injured boy fumbled for a moment, eventually retrieving Blaine's iPod and headphones. 'I heard what Andrew said, about not wanting to date you when there was such a mess between you and me. I realised that even though we weren't talking to each other, I was still holding you back from moving on in your life. So I left. Don't you see? I was getting out of your way.'

Kurt smiled sadly at the horrified look on Blaine's face, watching as it slowly morphed into something not as sharp, but exponentially more painful. 'Now you see,' he concluded. Almost tenderly, knowing this would probably be the last chance he had to be close to Blaine in a very long time, possibly forever, he put the headphones in Blaine's ears. His fingers brushed the sides of the other boy's face as he did so, feeling the lightest of caresses from the edge of Blaine's curls on his fingertips, and the smooth slide of skin against skin. They both shuddered at the contact.

'Another Language Room song, from me to you,' Kurt said softly, once the headphones were in and he'd found the right song on Blaine's iPod. 'This will be the last. Three is enough to fill anyone's angst quota, even mine.' Not even the slight self-deprecation could break the solemnity of the moment, a tangible quiet that felt almost sacred. Kurt pressed play, tucking the iPod into Blaine's pocket and nudging him out the door, shutting it behind him.

_When you kiss him  
>Kiss him with passion<br>Kiss him with everything you have_

_When you touch him  
>Let him inside you<br>Let him remind you you're alive  
>Or all my tears are in vain<br>And all my prayers_

Blaine listened to the song on repeat all the way out of the hospital and back to Dalton. When he got to the school he dragged himself back to his room to find Patrick waiting for him.

'Hey there,' Patrick said, playfully tugging the headphones out of Blaine's ears. Blaine flinched. The music was gone, but the song kept playing in his head without skipping a second. 'Where have you been? I've been looking for you.'

Blaine looked up at his boyfriend, who was much taller than him even though he was younger. Took in the tufts of sandy hair sticking every which way and the warm brown eyes.

He took in the pale skin stretched over a slightly-too-thin frame, and then yanked the boy into a hard, desperate kiss. The kind that bruised.

Patrick, always easy going, always happy to do whatever Blaine wanted, immediately bent into the kiss with enthusiasm. Blaine pushed harder and harder, nipping at the taller boy's mouth, searching for something with his tongue and lips and hands, because his heart was too afraid to look...

_When you hold him  
>Hold him so close<br>That every heartbeat  
>Moves your soul<em>

Still Blaine kept deepening the kiss, guiding them in a stumble back against the wall, where he pinned Patrick regardless of their difference in height. He let out a dry, desperate sob, lips trembling against Patrick's tongue as he realised that he wasn't feeling anything. No matter how far he sunk into his boyfriend's mouth and arms, nothing was filling the big, gaping well drilling down from his heart to his soul. He clawed frantically at Patrick's Dalton shirt to find skin underneath, pressing his hands against the planes of the boy's chest, and he couldn't help it - tears started to run down his face when he realised that the skin didn't burn.

_And if you love him  
>Love him forever<br>Love him the way you said you  
>Would with me<em>

_Or all my tears are in vain  
>And all my prayers are the same<em>

Patrick raised his hands to grasp the sides of Blaine's face, and recoiled instantly when he felt the wetness of Blaine's cheeks. Seeing the redness in the shorter boy's eyes, he pushed him away onto the bed, straightening his shirt and sitting on the other side of the room, instantly wary. Blaine buried his face in his hands and tried to will his tears away.

'What's wrong?' Patrick asked after a moment, once he'd gotten his panting breath back under control.

'I don't want to talk about it,' Blaine mumbled.

Patrick exhaled with a whoosh, tipping his head up to stare at the ceiling, occasionally stealing glances at his boyfriend. They hadn't been dating long, but this was the first time he'd seen Blaine anything like this - he'd only ever seen the bright, happy lead of the Warblers. This new Blaine was scaring him slightly.

They sat like that for half an hour, Patrick switching between contemplation of the ceiling and Blaine, Blaine never lifting his head out of his hands. Eventually, though, Patrick got impatient and went to sit next to Blaine, leaning up against the wall, not touching him but close enough to feel their proximity. Blaine finally raised his face but still didn't look at Patrick, instead looking straight ahead. Patrick would freely admit that he wasn't particularly good at reading people, but even he could see, looking into Blaine's eyes, exactly how far away he was.

_Or all my tears are in vain  
>And all my prayers are the same <em>

'What are you thinking about?' Patrick asked.

Not even the question was enough to draw Blaine back into the real world. His subconscious answered for him, while his thoughts stayed wherever they had been trapped. His answer was whispered.

'Storm clouds on snow.'


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

On Wednesday, Blaine donned his blazer and his mask of exuberance and ventured back into the halls of Dalton. He was greeted repeatedly before he'd even made it out of his residential block, everyone hastening to reassure themselves that the Warblers' star was perfectly fine. Even though Dalton was a boys' school, rumours still had a way of spreading and growing at a staggering speed - Blaine taking a day off because he was simply so goddamn tired had somehow turned into Blaine on his deathbed, in desperate need of a new kidney, lung and liver.

The spread of rumours had only been helped by the sight of Patrick leaving Blaine's room looking sad and worried, just as everyone had returned from dinner the night before. Blaine's boyfriend had refused to say anything of Blaine's condition, quickly disappearing into his own room with a frown. The student body had extrapolated this to mean that Blaine was clearly deteriorating. So Blaine was stopped every twenty feet practically his entire way to breakfast by people wanting to see for themselves that nothing was wrong. By the time he actually made it to the cafeteria, his face already hurt from all the smiles he'd had to force onto his face, and he still had one more scene to charm his way through.

Patrick was already seated with some of his friends, idly pushing his breakfast around on his plate. Without even bothering to grab any food, Blaine walked over to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder, subtly squeezing.

'Hey, you,' he said, grinning down at Patrick. 'Want to sit with me this morning?' He tilted his head to indicate a small table in the corner of the room.

Patrick blushed slightly, looking bashfully down at his plate. At another time, Blaine would have found this absolutely adorable. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly on Patrick's shoulder. The blond boy stood, still smiling shyly, and followed Blaine to the table.

They had barely had time to sit down before Blaine said, 'I'm really sorry about last night. It had just been… an intense day.'

Patrick looked down at his hands before answering, 'It's all cool. We all have days like that, I guess.' He hesitated slightly, before asking, 'But… would you mind telling me why, yet?'

Blaine's smile got even harder to hold. 'Oh, you know how everything seems so much worse when you're sick. I just had some stuff on my mind and then getting sick kind of made it easier to blow it out of proportion.'

Patrick, still not looking up, downed his entire glass of orange juice before asking, in the same tone as before, 'Were you worried about Hummel?'

Blaine looked hard at his boyfriend, tossing up what answer to give him. It was hard to know, since Blaine himself wasn't entirely sure what he wanted out of this situation. Eventually he said evenly, 'I was, a bit, yeah. I mean, we don't see each other anymore, but he used to be my best friend.'

'Okay,' Patrick muttered. 'Well, I guess that's understandable.' He finally looked up, meeting Blaine's eyes. 'But you're feeling better now, right?'

Blaine couldn't lie to this boy while looking him in the eye. He looked away, down at Patrick's fidgeting hands and said, 'All better now, yeah.' He then grabbed Patrick's hand and tugged him out of the seat. 'Come walk in the garden with me before first period?'

Patrick nodded his assent, so Blaine quickly tugged him through the corridors and out to the east gardens, in the opposite direction from where Blaine had once taken Kurt. They slowly wove among trees and bushes for about ten minutes, hand in hand, not speaking. Finally, as Patrick started to glance at his watch, Blaine stopped them under the long branches of a maple tree. _It's now or never_, Blaine through desperately to himself, and pressed his lips to Patrick's.

The kiss wasn't anything like the frantic grappling of the night before. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the tree and caressed their faces, as warm and soft and sweet as the press of their lips. It was over almost as quickly as it had come, Patrick drawing back to trace the patterns the light and leaves made on Blaine's face with a giddy smile.

Blaine curled his mouth up, not even able to fake a real smile any more. His chest hurt. 'I'll see you later,' he said, trying to suck the warmth out of the air around him and put it into his voice. Patrick's expression didn't change, so Blaine guessed he must have succeeded. 'You'd better head to class.' Blaine gently pushed at Patrick's shoulder, and the taller boy practically _bounced_ off with a wave over his shoulder.

Blaine stared morosely at the departing boy's back, tugging out his phone and sending a text before he could think about it too hard. About what he was saying, or the fact that he seemed to be hurting more and more people all the time.

x

Kurt stared at his phone and wondered what he could have possibly done to land himself in something so close to _hell_.

There, innocuously sitting at the end of Blaine's conversation thread like it fit in with the inane chatter before it, was a message that had arrived this morning while Kurt was sleeping.

_I don't. I tried to, and I can't._

Eight simple words that would seem harmless to an outsider. But coming from Blaine, they were crushing.

Kurt had pushed Blaine out of his hospital room and his life with one simple plea: to _love_. That if Blaine was going to be with someone else, to love the boy he chose fully and forever. So that Kurt might not have suffered, might not have lived through months of confusion and depression and torment, for nothing. And here Blaine was telling Kurt that he didn't love Patrick, that he couldn't do the one thing Kurt had asked of him.

Even disregarding the fact, painful in its own right, that Blaine was actively _trying_ to develop feelings for someone else - that hurt.

Kurt kept staring. He didn't know what to write back, or if he should. He didn't even know what to feel - so many warring emotions filling his head and heart that none shone through clear enough for him to pick it out.

Failing everything else, Kurt fell back on straight honesty as he tapped out a reply to Blaine. _I don't want to hear it. Please. I don't want to know that my transfer, and everything that came with it, was for nothing._

It had been hours since Blaine had first messaged Kurt, but his reply was still near-instantaneous. _So come back_.

Confusion crept up on Kurt. This was the second time now that Blaine had asked him to go back to Dalton. The first could be passed off as a knee-jerk reaction to hearing that a friend had been attacked. But a second time, and in the context of this conversation? Kurt sent off, _Why should I, Blaine? I'm finally safe at McKinley._

Again, Blaine's reply arrived almost before Kurt could put down his phone. _Never as safe as you'll be at Dalton._

At that, Kurt growled in frustration. What did Blaine want from him? Kurt finally had a chance to live in something like peace, and Blaine was trying to talk him out of it. Almost like he wanted Kurt but only in the fringes, wanted him close but not too close. Always on hand if Blaine needed him but easily pushed away, and with no concern for how much it hurt Kurt. It made Kurt want to smash something.

But that was a harsh picture to draw, and no matter how Blaine had treated Kurt over the last few months, Kurt found it hard to believe. Blaine, regardless of his reluctance to put _real_ feelings on the line, was still a fundamentally good person. Hell, he was still _amazing_. Kurt still only had to picture Blaine's face - brimming with sympathy and support as it had been the day they first met, or lit up with the joy of a performance and so utterly _beautiful_ that it made Kurt's breath catch - to remember exactly how amazing Blaine was. So what was Blaine angling for here?

_What do you want from me? _Kurt finally sent.

He didn't know if he should be satisfied that the question appeared to stump Blaine thoroughly, since he didn't reply until the next day. And even then, it was simply, _I don't know._

x

By Friday, even Patrick had noticed that Blaine's mask was slipping.

He'd been far from the first to notice - that honour had gone to David and Wes, who'd never believed Blaine's mask in the first place - but come Friday lunch time, even the infatuated sophomore had realised that something was wrong with his boyfriend.

Patrick had watched Blaine from afar ever since he'd transferred to Dalton, and had always seen him to be endlessly energetic, cheerful and affectionate. Blaine's friends constantly brought a light to his face, and after the first month or two of Dalton's security, he'd never been afraid to grab a hand or pull someone into a hug where it was warranted. The only time he'd ever faltered had been during that weird month or so when he and Kurt Hummel had been on and off again faster than anyone could keep track of. But then Blaine and Hummel had apparently called it quits for good, Hummel had left, and Blaine had been back to himself. He'd asked Patrick out, and had never once stopped being the unreserved, demonstrative boy Patrick had wanted to claim for at least a year.

Tuesday night had been… disturbing. Patrick hadn't known what to do with a crying, tortured Blaine. He'd pushed the uncomfortable night out of his mind all too easily the next morning, when Blaine had apologised with a kiss so sweet Patrick would have forgiven him for anything. Tuesday had surely been an anomaly, easily swept aside by the onslaught of wonderful moments that would come with dating Blaine Anderson.

Except there had been no more sweet kisses under a maple tree, or hand holding in the hallways, or really much acknowledgement at all. Blaine seemed to be permanently attached to his phone, rarely writing anything, but continually reading something and checking for messages. He didn't smile unless he thought people were watching. He sat with Patrick in meals but didn't really seem engaged in the conversation, and sometimes Patrick would catch him with this guilty, torn look on his face. Like now - they were supposed to be eating lunch, but Blaine kept sliding out his phone, flicking through something absently, and then giving Patrick that look.

'Blaine?' Patrick asked, putting down his cutlery.

'Yeah?'

'Who are you waiting for a message from?'

'No one in particular.' Blaine tried to smoothly slide his phone back into his pocket without drawing attention to it, but it was too late.

Patrick stiffened. He didn't like the idea he was being lied to; more than that, he _really_ didn't like the idea that Blaine was waiting on anyone except him. 'Alright, how about you tell me why you said you were feeling better on Wednesday when I don't think you are?'

'What?' Blaine seemed genuinely surprised. 'Pat, I'm fine. I haven't felt sick at all since Tuesday.'

Patrick sighed, eyeing off David, who seemed to be heading their way. 'I wasn't talking about your immune system, Blaine. But we have company.' He nodded at David, who was almost at their table.

'Hey, David, what's up?' Blaine asked, charming grin suddenly back in place. Patrick almost felt like doing a double take - Blaine was back to being the Warblers' charismatic front man, but Pat knew that Blaine's cheerfulness had to have been faked this time. And yet, it had been thrown up again so quickly he hadn't even seen Blaine do it.

…. almost like it was second nature to Blaine. Like he put it up so often he didn't even have to think about it.

Another thing that Patrick didn't want to think about.

'Hey guys,' David said, making an effort to include Patrick in his greeting, before turning back to Blaine with a resigned expression on his face, like he knew he was about to be shot down for whatever he was about to ask but felt obligated to try. 'Blaine, some of us are going into Lima this afternoon to see Kurt and the rest of New Directions, to celebrate Kurt's first day back at school. We have a spare seat, so I thought I'd check if you wanted to come.'

Blaine blinked up at David, and then looked down at his pocket, clearly considering the offer. It was hard to say if the shock was more evident on David or Patrick's face, particularly once Blaine finally said, 'Sure; thanks. Catch you outside your dorm at 3:15?'

David nodded dumbly, wandering off to sit next to Wes, where he came to life and started a heated discussion with the other boy, waving his hands around wildly.

Patrick turned back to Blaine, who was idly turning his phone over in his hands. _Again_. 'Blaine, I thought you said you wouldn't go on any of those visits to Kurt.'

Blaine's head flew up, giving the most immediate reaction Patrick had seen from him in days. 'I never said that. I just said I knew that me seeing him made you uncomfortable.'

'If you know it bugs me, then why are you going?' Patrick mentally slapped himself for the whiny tone of his question. Hell, he almost sounded like a _girl_.

'Well, it's like I said the other day,' Blaine answered, trying to play causal. 'He was my best friend once, so it only makes sense that I'd still be a bit worried about him.' A shadow of something Patrick didn't want to identify flickered over Blaine's face. It looked all too close to longing. 'And maybe I was… I don't know, a bit too quick to cut him out of my life. Besides, I haven't seen New Directions in ages, and I'd like to hang out with them. They're cool people.'

Blaine had clearly structured his reasons carefully, hoping to divert Patrick's attention away from that terrible little line, oh so revealing, sandwiched in the middle. 'Too quick to cut him out of your life?' Patrick echoed incredulously. 'Blaine, I know you won't tell me what he did, but clearly if he did something bad enough to turn someone as kind as _you _against him, lightning speed wouldn't be too quick.'

Blaine huffed slightly. 'Why does everyone keep assuming that Kurt did something wrong? He didn't. It was just that we were-'

'-very different people. Yeah, we heard it,' Patrick finished, rolling his eyes. 'Anyway, Blaine, I'm still really not sure about you going to see Kurt.' _If you do, I might just never get you back. I wouldn't put it past Hummel to lock you away in his basement forever_, Patrick added silently.

'Which, to be honest, Patrick, I'm not really sure I understand,' Blaine said. His expression, always so carefully soft or happy when he looked at Patrick, was slowly turning into a heavy frown. 'You know we were always just friends.'

'Yeah?' Patrick asked, his insecurities rushing to take control in the face of this unfamiliar Blaine. 'Friends often dance together like you two did at the Regionals after party, do they?' Blaine didn't answer, but his hands gripped more tightly at his phone, so Patrick pressed further. 'Where did you guys go that night when you bailed on the party, Blaine?'

Blaine's face was completely unreadable. 'Outside. It was stuffy in the choir room.'

'Into the _thunderstorm_?' Patrick asked in disbelief. Silence, as Blaine raised his eyebrow as if to say, _you're seriously questioning me?_ 'Well, if you won't give me a straight answer on that, how about you tell me what "storm clouds on snow" means?'

Blaine flinched violently, so much so that his chair jerked back, but he couldn't seem to come up with a response.

Patrick felt a little ill. _So many secrets,_ he thought wildly as the realisation smacked into him. _So many things he won't tell me._ The memory of Blaine creating a fake cheerfulness for David before flashed across Patrick's thoughts.

'You… You're not the person I was expecting,' Patrick said carefully, studying Blaine for a reaction. He didn't get one, though, nothing like what mentioning "storm clouds on snow" had. 'You're not the person I was expecting,' Patrick repeated, 'and even now, I still don't think I've seen half of who you really are. You're hiding.'

That earned a slight wince and little more, but at least Blaine, usually so articulate, appeared speechless. It was the only real sign Patrick had that what he was saying was hitting home. Patrick stood up, grabbing his bag. 'Well, Blaine, I've been upfront from the start,' he said, starting to get angry. 'You know I like you a lot. But I think I deserve to know who I'm kissing, at least, don't I? So you need to stop hiding. Or...'

The besotted boy inside him, who'd been infatuated with Blaine from the moment they'd met, was screaming at Patrick to stop, but he didn't. This was the right thing to do. 'Or I'll leave you.'

He looked down at Blaine's dark head, and feeling reckless, threw out one last demand. He'd win or lose Blaine completely, but at least there would be no more questions. 'And the same goes for seeing Kurt. I know you aren't telling me everything about him, Blaine. And maybe I don't have the right to know everything. But if you value me more than a boy you seemed quite happy to throw out on his ass, you won't go to see him this afternoon.'

Patrick left the dining hall, disappearing into his dorm room which he proceeded to tear to pieces. It only took an hour and a half for him to regret what he'd said. Keeping Blaine Anderson, flawed or not, was still far, far better than losing him. Why on earth had Patrick let his insecurities rule him? He should really go apologise to Blaine for being such a drama queen.

… but something held him back. Well, maybe he would go apologise later. Say, after dinner.

At 3:16, Patrick looked out his dorm room door to see the backs of Blaine and David walking together for the exit.

_Because_, he answered himself bitterly, slamming the door shut, _sometimes my insecurities are smarter than I am_.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you so much everyone for your response to the last chapter; I really appreciate it. I wanted to talk briefly about a comment made by thefieryrose13 - you're so right about Patrick being good for Blaine's character development. For me, this whole story is about developing Blaine's character. I've always gotten the sense that, while he's fearless most of the time, when feelings really run deep he has trouble facing them; unless, consciously or not, Kurt prompts him to. I wanted to see Blaine grow enough to get past that, which is what this story is about. Initially, I had planned this to only take about six chapters total, and a bit over 20000 words - which clearly hasn't happened! Blaine still has more growing to do yet. But I hope that might explain to some of you why characters like Patrick are around. He's not just there to cause drama or because I needed someone new to torture for a change - Patrick's role in the story, like Kurt's or David's, is to help Blaine acknowledge how he deals with his feelings and the people around him, and change what he needs to. And I'm so glad that some of you can see it that way!_

_Anyway, definitely time to get on with the story. For me, the turning point was two chapters ago, but I hope that some of you will appreciate the more overt turning point here. Please review to let me know what you think.  
><em>

**Chapter Eight**

Kurt's first day back at McKinley had been oddly refreshing.

He was still a bit weak and sore, and his doctors hadn't wanted him to overexert himself, so he had only returned for a half day - his last few classes and glee club in the afternoon. And by the end of his first two classes, he was definitely glad he'd agreed to only go for half a day because he was exhausted, never mind that he'd basically slept all week.

But Kurt had forgotten exactly how much blessed distraction and relief McKinley could offer. He didn't even come close to being slushied once in the four hours he was there, and although he knew the other glee boys had threatened the football team prior to Kurt's return, threats alone weren't securing his immunity. Now that his main tormentors were gone and most of the students had been shocked into a vague sympathy for him, the school was safe. And without living in constant fear, Kurt was free to throw himself wholeheartedly into school and social life.

So by the time glee club came to an end, his thoughts were almost entirely, blissfully Blaine-free. He'd gleefully engaged in the latest relationship gossip, dished out advice on just about everything to at least four different people, and helped to costume and perform an amazing group number. Kurt hadn't been this_ engaged_ in months, and it was making him feel something so close to happiness, being able to feel like he had a life again.

Until his phone buzzed with a message from David, who he was meeting soon, along with a few other Warblers and most of New Directions.

_Just a heads up that Blaine's coming, and from what I could see in the cafeteria, he and Patrick fought about it._

Kurt's _almost_-happiness, his _almost-_Blaine-free thoughts, came crashing down instantly. Because that tiny part of him that always, always longed for Blaine suddenly had the fuel it needed to take over again. From the very moment Kurt had met Blaine, there had always been a corner of his mind that was solely dedicated to wanting the dark-haired boy. At one point, Kurt had let it run wild, but the last few months, he had actively cut it back, starved it, and tried to keep it as small as possible.

Today, more than ever, he thought he'd succeeded at keeping it in the background. He hadn't let it take control and the reward had been a near-normal day. But as horribly familiar ache reappeared at the base of his throat, like tears that had been swallowed for whole days at a time, Kurt realised that part of him had only been waiting for the right moment to come back. He hadn't really been in control at all.

Memories appeared from a time before he'd transferred to Dalton, when his friendship with Blaine was new and Kurt had still hoped for something between them. Suzy Pepper, who had drifted around the corridors Kurt's entire school career in hideous attire and with an uncomfortable way of carrying herself, had one day miraculously appeared in the corridors looking almost acceptable. There was a soft smile on her face, her shoulders were loose, and to Kurt's absolute amazement, she'd apparently dressed herself with a modicum of taste. Kurt had been so taken aback by the abrupt change that he'd had to ask Suzy what had sparked the transformation, no matter that he'd never been able to stand the girl.

_'I met someone I liked_,' Suzy had said, and her tone had been very faintly infused with something that almost sounded like wonder. Kurt, not understanding why this was so profound, had pushed harder, and Suzy had kept smiling. It was the most positive Kurt had ever seen her look. '_You probably can't understand_,' Suzy had eventually continued, _'but when you feel the way I did about Mr Schuester, it... it cripples you. The feelings are so strong and so persistent it's like no matter what you try, you'll never be able to get rid of them and no one will ever be able to measure up. Even after years of intense psychotherapy, I was still so scared that I'd never meet anyone I could be attracted to, or that I could be with without the shadow of Mr Schuester hanging over my head._

_'But last week, right when I was least expecting it, I met someone_,' Suzy had said, her entire personality seeming to flip in a second. The change was so marked that Kurt thought for the first time that one day, with a serious makeover, Suzy could actually be pretty. _'For the first time in over a year, I saw someone and thought, "Hey, he's cute." And then he talked to me, we actually had things in common, and he made me laugh. And it's not like it was love at first sight,' _Suzy had added with a chuckle, catching the sceptical look on Kurt's face, _'but after being completely dominated by the fear I'd never want someone after Mr Schuester? It was amazing.'_

Kurt hadn't really been able to empathise at the time, still in the first flush of his feelings for Blaine and thinking he might actually have a shot. But now he understood all too well what Suzy had meant, about being scared that she'd never be able to get past these feelings and want someone again. It really was almost debilitating. And even though Suzy had had her happy ending, her moment of liberation, somehow Kurt couldn't see his coming. It was terrifying.

Looking down at David's message again, letting Kurt know that Blaine would be joining them, Kurt felt like he could justifiably land some of the blame on Blaine himself. How could Kurt possibly let go when Blaine seemed determined to always reel him back in at the last minute?

But then Kurt recalled their last exchange. _What do you want from me? _Kurt had asked. And Blaine had replied with, _I don't know. _Kurt had to keep reminding himself that Blaine wasn't a villain here, he was just a confused and scared teenage boy; and if he was causing Kurt pain, it was purely accidental.

It was kind of hard to remember that, though, when Kurt felt so constantly miserable.

Time did one of its typical McKinley-leaps that Kurt never seemed to catch until it was over, and before he knew it he was sitting in a café (not the Lima Bean, which was too small for their group, but somewhere new and not nearly as appealing) with the rest of New Directions, waiting for the Warblers to arrive. When they did, David was first through the door, and Kurt jumped up and hugged him without a second thought - somewhere along the line, thanks to David's support and quiet friendship, Kurt had come to really value the boy. He wasn't the role model Blaine had once been, but he was endlessly encouraging and always willing to make the time and the effort to see Kurt, so Kurt tried to return the same to their friendship.

After David came Wes, Nick, Simon and Jeff, who all clapped Kurt on the shoulder enthusiastically and remarked at how much better he looked without his hospital gown; Kurt, shuddering melodramatically, launched into a brief, passionate diatribe about what he would have done to his most horrible hospital attire, if only he'd been given the chance. The next carload of Warblers arrived in time to catch the end of his rant, and they laughed at his theatrics before one by one patting his back and taking seats with New Directions.

All except Blaine, who'd come in very last and watched the interaction between Kurt and his friends from the sidelines. Once everyone was seated and determinedly talking among themselves, Kurt finally turned to Blaine and resisted the urge to blurt out something approximating, '_Why are you here?_' Instead, mindful of his audience, he tentatively said, 'Hi.'

Blaine, looking grateful that he'd been spared the difficulty of taking the first step, returned, 'Hey, Kurt. How are you feeling?'

'Much better, thank you,' Kurt replied, hating the formality almost more than he'd hated their fighting. At least the fighting felt natural. This was so stilted it was making his spine itch. 'Very tired, but otherwise recovered.'

Blaine's eyes were raking Kurt's face, and Kurt was suddenly very conscious of the hideous marks that the half-faded bruises and scrapes had left on his skin. 'That's good,' Blaine said quietly, gaze still searching. 'You look a lot better.' The silence stretched out for a moment as they both took each other in, trying to discern questions and answers in the way they each stood and the looks on their faces.

'Hey, Kurt!' Finn called. Kurt jumped and turned to face his stepbrother just in time to catch Rachel smacking him on the arm. 'What?' Finn asked defensively of the tiny brunette. 'I just wanted to see if we could order! I'm hungry!'

Kurt laughed and went to sit on the other side of Finn, trying not to note that Blaine settled a few seats away - not close enough to be in Kurt's immediate range, but not at the end of their (very long, what with about twenty people all crammed in together) table, either.

The group lingered in the café for the next hour, growing progressively louder and more obnoxious as the two choirs mingled more. Kurt had shot the staff an apologetic look or two, but since the group seemed to be going through just as much food as conversation, he didn't feel too badly. Mostly, he was occupied by the constant stream of people who filled the chairs around him, who all seemed to have some kind of telepathic roster worked out when it came to speaking to Kurt. He appreciated the variety of company immensely - truthfully, he'd never felt so loved in his life - but he'd already been exhausted before they'd arrived, so it was hard to keep up with everyone.

A pair of hazel eyes weren't helping Kurt's concentration, either. Blaine was pretty much the only other one at the table who hadn't switched seats at some point during the afternoon. He was never close enough to be drawn into the same conversation as Kurt (despite Wes's clumsy, misguided attempts), but he seemed to be watching every time Kurt looked. It was entirely disconcerting. Slightly disturbing, too, was that Blaine only ever had one of three expressions on his face: fond, wistful or painfully uncertain. One of the things that had first attracted Kurt to Blaine was that his face was just so animated, so seeing him stuck bothered Kurt more than he wanted to admit.

The party wrapped up as the Warblers realised that if they wanted to make it back to Westerville for the end of dinner, they'd have to rush. Everyone slowly filtered out to their cars except for David, Blaine and Kurt, who all lingered by the door. Blaine shot Kurt another one of those uncertain looks before clearly coming to some kind of decision, and asking David, 'Would you give us a minute, please?'

There was a time when David would have accepted Blaine's request without question. Not today. In spite of the friendship they'd formed, Kurt was still slightly shocked when David didn't walk off, even when Blaine's furrowed his brow and indicated the door with a tiny jerk of his head. Instead, David merely looked past Blaine to Kurt and raised a questioning eyebrow, his message clear - _is this what _you_ want?_

Kurt took a moment to really consider his answer before nodding very slightly at David, who clasped Kurt's forearm gently before departing. Kurt and Blaine both shifted awkwardly in the ensuing silence, before Blaine abruptly blurted, 'I fought with Patrick about coming today.'

Kurt raised an eyebrow at Blaine. Of all the things he had expected, this was not it. 'So I heard.'

'David, hey?' Blaine asked with a crooked smile. 'I swear he was never so interfering before you came along.' He sobered again. 'Patrick basically issued me an ultimatum. A couple of ultimatums, actually. One of which was that if I wanted to keep him, I wouldn't come here this afternoon.'

Kurt's heart was pounding, and he suppressed the urge to shake Blaine violently and shout at him, _why are you doing this to me? _Instead, he asked the slightly more subtle, 'So what does it mean that you're here?'

Blaine looked at his feet, thinking furiously. His thoughts were a complete mess, more than they'd ever been before, and he had no idea how to articulate them to himself, let alone to Kurt. 'We both already know that I can't love him,' he said slowly. 'But as to why I chose to come here, instead of ignoring the other ultimatum he gave me? I'm not sure. But I do know that watching you laughing with your friends for an hour made me happier than a whole day with Patrick.'

Kurt's hand was hanging limply by his side, and Blaine ran a single finger very, very lightly across the back of it, cherishing one of the few patches of pale skin that was unmarked. Kurt bit his lip at the tenderness in the movement.

'I know that this touch burns more than Patrick's lips and hands on my chest ever have,' Blaine said raggedly, and curved his fingertips delicately around Kurt's, still only the barest contact.

Blaine's fingers were sending something stronger than sparks up Kurt's arm. He was so hyper-aware of where their fingers met, he swore he could count every single cell of his that touched Blaine's. 'Blaine, you can't do this to me,' Kurt gasped hoarsely. He wanted desperately to twitch his fingers, all that it would take to separate him from the boy before him, but he couldn't no matter how hard he tried. 'You can't keep me hanging on if you don't know what you want from me. It's not fair.'

Blaine sighed and slid his fingers away, until only the pads of their index fingers were still caught together. 'I know. And I'm so, so sorry for what I put you through. You have no idea.' He looked up and caught Kurt's eye. 'I'm still scared of everything that you bring out in me. Maybe I always will be. But... not having you in my life is starting to scare me more.'

It felt like Kurt's heart was pumping grief instead of blood around his body. Blaine was really, really trying to understand everything. It sounded like he might even be making the first baby steps of progress. He was battling through a world of confusion and fear and trying to make things ok, and Kurt wanted to support Blaine through that. He really did.

But he just couldn't do it any more.

Kurt pulled his hand away.

'Blaine, not having you in my life has _killed_ me. But I can't keep being the strong one.' Kurt could hear the tears in his own voice and feel them clawing at his eyelids, but he refused to let them fall. 'I can't keep letting you mess me around while you try to figure this all out again. If you cut me off this time, I don't know how I'll recover.'

Kurt turned to leave but was abruptly stopped by two hands grabbing tightly at his wrists. 'Woah, woah, Kurt, stop, please!' Blaine pulled Kurt around to face him, and there was panic in the shorter boy's eyes. 'Kurt, I know I'm still figuring this out, but I've definitely made progress from where I was at before,' Blaine said rapidly, adrenaline finally forcing his thoughts to clarify themselves. 'What I said was true, even though I've _just_ realised it. I can't not have you in my life. If you stay, I swear to God I'll never cut you off completely like that ever again. Please, please keep talking to me, and I _promise _I won't leave you.' Blaine's expression was pleading. 'And in everything I've done to you, I've never broken a promise.'

Kurt could feel Blaine's hands on his wrists where they held them fast, the blood throbbing at the pulse points there. Blaine's skin was intoxicating and Kurt's head was spinning. But his heart was still terrified. _Can I do this? _he asked himself frantically. _Can I really do this to myself again?_

He looked at Blaine, whose emotions were almost bleeding from his face and into the air around him, who was clearly as lost in this situation and was hurting as deeply as Kurt was. Who, despite the panic twisting his face, was still the most glorious man Kurt had ever seen. _Can I not do this?_

'What do you want from me?' Kurt asked again.

'Just a place in your life,' Blaine answered. The words had the resonance of certainty behind them, a crystalline ring of truth that had been missing from his voice for so long. 'Just ten seconds of your day, every day, so that, when I've figured myself out, there's still room for me in there somewhere.'

Kurt could feel his will crumble into dust. 'You promise you'll make use of those ten seconds? Every day?' he asked, sounding as vulnerable as he felt.

Relief appeared to hit Blaine hard, making him waver on the spot as he dropped Kurt's wrists. 'I promise,' he vowed, looking like he might cry. The air around them stilled and calmed.

Kurt, finding a new reserve of energy, knew he could be the strong one for another round. After a long minute of silence he pulled himself together, standing taller. He cocked one eyebrow and fixed Blaine with a sharp look. 'So, Mr Anderson, what is your judgement of Tom Ford's new collection?' He made it sound like if Blaine got the answer wrong, he'd be immediately kicked to the curb.

Blaine tried to pull himself together too, his eyes slowly clearing. 'Hideous,' he said finally. 'Some of those colours clashed so badly that the model looked like he was in physical pain.' Blaine gave Kurt a tremulous smile, and even though it was tiny, it seemed to glow.

Deep inside Kurt, deeper than a place of physical sensation, something jerked to a halt. Like he had been free falling, but out of nowhere a strong, brown hand had reached out and stopped the plunge.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_If he's given me ten seconds every day, what does that make us? _Blaine mused to himself as he sat on his bed the morning after going with David to see Kurt and New Directions. He was back to his new nervous habit of turning his phone over and over in his hands. _Can I take more than ten seconds? Should I?_

Blaine wasn't sure what to do next, but he could feel the itch to do _something_. Coming to a sort of resolution with Kurt yesterday had given him a renewed drive to act that he hadn't expected. After all the drama with Patrick, and with a whirlwind of emotions swarming Blaine that he hadn't even bothered trying to indentify, he'd gone into that café not really knowing what he was looking for. All he'd hoped for was that he'd find something that might put him on a path, to stop him stumbling blindly from disaster to disaster.

But he'd spent most of the time just watching Kurt, still not knowing what all these feelings meant, why everything was pulled so tightly in his chest - and he'd almost wanted to scream because it was _worse_. Worse than watching Patrick storming off and not knowing if Blaine wanted to go after him, worse than missing his best friend while simultaneously rejecting him, worse than not being able to answer that question of Kurt's that haunted him wherever he went - _what do you want from me?_

And then Kurt had been about to leave and it had firmed a part of Blaine, the same part of him that had been brave enough to enter the café in the first place; and he'd realised that he desperately needed to talk to Kurt, to say more than a few impulsive text messages that had basically written themselves before Blaine had even thought about them. David's hesitancy to leave the two of them alone had been a blow - the realisation the one of his best friends didn't trust him not to hurt people any more was a harsh one. But it, like the panic at the thought of Kurt leaving, served a miraculous purpose - because suddenly everything had started to fall into place, so rapidly that Blaine couldn't keep up; and the sheer relief of finally being able to find some truths in all of this, and some _direction,_ made his hands shake and his breathing quicken.

He knew that there was a long way to go before this situation was resolved, before he found the solution to his constant fear, his desire to run from the boy who made him feel so strongly and put himself on the line. And he had no idea what Kurt felt about him anymore, or where their friendship was headed for in the future. But the single most important realisation to come out of that blind panic and hurt had been that not having Kurt was scaring him, too. Maybe even more than the intensity of feeling that Kurt inspired. And maybe he _needed_ Kurt in his life, even if it was only for ten seconds every day. The clarity this insight had brought Blaine had seemed achingly beautiful, so welcome it was.

Blaine smiled, holding onto the wonder of that moment, indulging in the small triumph of that memory. Kurt's face had been filled with pain, and he'd looked so vulnerable. But, despite how he'd suffered, he'd still asked Blaine back into his life.

Blaine's smile broadened. Kurt wanted Blaine back into his life, just as Blaine wanted to be there. Why was he sitting here on his bed over-thinking this whole thing, staring at his phone as if it held the secrets of the universe? It should be simple. They both wanted to spend time with each other.

Blaine finally stopped turning his phone over in his hands and invited Kurt out to the park instead.

x

The park was blissfully warm on Sunday morning, summer taking its first peek over spring's shoulder with a coy smile. As he settled on the cleanest bench he could find, Blaine could feel the sun slowly melting the nerves out of his muscles, and couldn't help but bask a little in the optimism the weather seemed to represent.

He'd barely had time to reflect upon, this, though, when he saw Kurt's car pull up. As Kurt climbed out of his seat and spotted Blaine, the Dalton boy leapt to his feet with a smile, which stayed firmly in place as Kurt approached. For a single sweet moment, it was like they were back at a time where everything was easy and bright - until Blaine stepped in a little too close, aiming for a hug, and saw Kurt's face tighten just slightly.

Blaine faltered and stopped where he stood, and there was tense silence as the two boys regarded each other, standing barely inches apart. 'Can I hug you?' Blaine eventually asked, his optimism waning further the longer Kurt just stood there with that taut pull around his eyes.

Kurt nodded, tentatively raising his arms to fall loosely around Blaine's shoulders while Blaine pulled Kurt close by the waist, mindful of Kurt's broken ribs. There was no strength in the grasp of either of their arms, both boys far too gentle, but their chests still pressed flush together. And as they held one another just a moment too long, Blaine could feel Kurt's breath pushing against his ribcage, changing the rhythm of his own breathing.

Blaine inhaled deeply and choked out, 'God, Kurt, I missed you.'

Kurt pulled away, looking wounded. Blaine could see his friend almost losing the battle with himself to scream, _then why?_

Blaine didn't have an answer to that. Not yet. He was relieved when Kurt won his internal struggle.

Blaine sat down on the park bench, tugging Kurt down next to him. Forcing a bright expression onto his face, he asked, 'So, are you guys ready for nationals?'

Kurt frowned. 'Blaine, that diversion tactic may have worked for David, but you can't expect it to work for you. You know we have to talk about' - he waved a hand between the two of them - 'this. We've slid along almost every point on the spectrum of relationships in the last couple of months and unless we talk about it, how are we supposed to know how to act?'

And there it was, that familiar fear clawing its way into Blaine's lungs, the one that had always resulted in him running. The fear of giving more of himself and ending up hurt. But this time, Blaine was ready for it, and he rapidly worked to divert himself. 'Kurt, this last week has been the most emotionally exhausting of my entire life.' Kurt looked incredulous, so he hastened to add, 'And I know I've got nothing on you, and I know that's my fault. But right now, I'm just so damn tired.' He grabbed Kurt's hands, locking eyes pleadingly. 'Before this whole mess, you were my only real support, and once you were gone... there was nothing. It took more than I thought I had just to get this far, with no one to help me. I'm exhausted. I know I have so much work to do, a lot of thinking and talking and begging for forgiveness' - the last added with a wry smile - 'but I honestly don't think I'm strong enough right now.'

Kurt nodded slowly. His hands were limp and unresponsive in Blaine's, but he didn't pull away. 'So then, why are we here? What I said about not knowing how to act still stands.'

Blaine smiled tentatively, glad Kurt hadn't rejected him outright. 'Like I said, you're my support. If I'm going to find the energy to keep going, it's going to come from spending time with you.' The long, slender fingers nestled in Blaine's tensed. 'For today, can we just... go with the flow? I promise you that soon, really soon, we'll work this out. But right now, I really want time with Kurt. No definitions, no complications. Only Kurt and Blaine.'

Kurt sighed, bending over and dropping his forehead to rest on their joined hands. It was an uncomfortable and awkward position, Kurt bent double where they sat on the park bench, but the weight of Kurt's head pressing down on their hands and Blaine's legs felt oddly comforting. 'You're playing a very dangerous game, Mr Anderson,' Kurt mumbled into their hands. 'But I suppose, if it's just for today, we can probably work with that.' He lifted his face up, and even after all the emotion and drama of the last couple of months, Blaine still found it startling to see how tear-reddened eyes looked on Kurt, contrasting with his skin. 'I've missed you, too.'

Blaine squeezed Kurt's fingers gently before letting them slide away with a soft smile. 'So, can I ask if you guys are ready for nationals now?'

Kurt giggled slightly and launched into a story about original songs and the difficulty they were having. They talked for hours, relocating to a café when it got to lunch time, and then again to the backseat of Kurt's car. Conversation never slowed, Blaine asking Kurt question after question to keep the other boy talking, the soft lilt of Kurt's voice like a balm on his grazed emotions.

Eventually, as the sun began to set and Blaine began to think of the drive back to Westerville, Kurt turned to Blaine with more nerves in his face than Blaine had seen all day. 'Blaine, can I ask you something?' he asked quietly. When Blaine nodded his assent, Kurt continued with, 'I know you said, when you came on Friday, that Patrick had issued you an ultimatum, but... I was... I wanted to know how that had turned out.'

Blaine sighed. He hadn't spent much time during the last two days thinking about Patrick - and it wasn't as if he was avoiding thinking about his probably-now-ex-boyfriend. Truth be told, he honestly just hadn't had room for thoughts about Patrick, being so wrapped up in Kurt.

And God, wasn't that telling.

'I kind of haven't spoken to him since we fought on Friday,' Blaine muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 'I just kind of assumed, since I haven't heard from him, that he knows I went to see you. And that he's making good on his threat.'

'Do you want to be with him, Blaine?'

Blaine sucked in a chest full of air and then let it out explosively, thinking hard. 'No. I mean, it was nice, but... you know I don't love him. I don't think I can, and that was even before our fight.'

Kurt's expression was unreadable. 'Well, either way, Blaine, you need to go and talk to him. You can't leave this hanging.'

Blaine chuckled, short and bitter. 'I don't think this is hanging, Kurt. I think it's pretty damn clear where we both are. Even if I hadn't come to see you, he still would have broken up with me.'

Kurt looked at Blaine in disbelief. 'I don't think so, Blaine. Once I found out you two were dating, I went home and looked Patrick up in the student directory, and I realised I actually already knew the kid.' Kurt leaned forward and put a hand on Blaine's knee - the first touch he had initiated the entire day. 'Blaine, Patrick watched you with stars in his eyes every single day in the cafeteria, in the hallways, from across the courtyard. The entire time at Dalton, he was watching and wanting you, and his feelings were so clearly strong that even I noticed them - and I was pretty damn occupied watching you, too.' Kurt's bitter laughed mirrored Blaine's from before, and Blaine felt his heart clench. 'You don't give up boys you like that much over one silly visit to an old friend.'

Blaine could see how much it cost Kurt to tell him that, to potentially push Blaine back towards Patrick. Impulsively, he leaned over and tugged Kurt to him, still gently, but just firmly enough to not brook any easy opposition. He wrapped his arms around Kurt, almost trying to engulf the pale boy, buried his face in Kurt's neck, and breathed him in. Only once he was fully immersed in the feeling of Kurt being there did he say anything. 'Right before Patrick started issuing ultimatums, he said something that really got to me. He said, "You're not the person I was expecting." Kurt, those stars in his eyes were for someone who didn't really exist, and I think we've both realised that. If he hadn't broken up with me, I probably would have broken up with him.'

Oh so slowly, Kurt's hand came up to knot in Blaine's hair. They sat there for a moment, intertwined on the back seat of Kurt's car, Blaine's nose pressed against Kurt's neck, Kurt's fingers gently teasing the strands twisted between them. And then Kurt cleared his throat, and said timidly, 'Blaine, I know you think otherwise... but I've never really expected anything from you.'

'I think I'm starting to see that,' Blaine whispered, nuzzling deeper. 'It took Patrick and his expectations of the perfect Blaine Anderson to show me, but I think I might be starting to understand. Patrick had expectations, but you... You just looked into me, and then tried to help whatever it is you saw in me to grow.'

'How very poetic of you,' Kurt quipped weakly, and Blaine chuckled, disentangling himself from Kurt.

'Kurt, will you promise me something?' Hearing Kurt's noncommittal hum, Blaine squared his shoulders and ploughed on. 'You know how I promised to make use of those ten seconds every day? Do you think that maybe you could give me the same? Even with nationals coming up?'

The curve of Kurt's mouth was subtle and tender as he smiled. 'Of course. I promise.'

'And will you come and see me when you get back from New York, before I have to fly out?' They'd realised while discussing nationals that while Kurt arrived back in Lima on Saturday next week, Blaine flew out to join his parents in their New York apartment the very next day. It left very little opportunity to see each other.

'If I promise to come, will you try to do some thinking in the mean time?' Kurt asked tentatively, biting his lip.

Blaine nodded, opening the door and climbing out of Kurt's back seat, turning to pull Kurt into one last hug after the taller boy climbed out too. 'I'll get through this as quickly as I can, if you promise to be there with me, and not be too ashamed of me when I stumble.'

'I'm never ashamed, Blaine,' Kurt said, and pressed the most agonisingly light kiss to Blaine's cheek.

Blaine shuddered as he noticed that even with the most innocent of touches, Kurt still made his skin burn. 'I swear, I'll find our place together,' he vowed.

Kurt's arms were vice-like around Blaine for a moment; then, with a kiss to Blaine's forehead, Kurt was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

_To those who I haven't been able to reply to personally because of their settings/they reviewed anonymously, thank you so much for your response. You put some of the steam back into this story. That being said, given this chapter was a really big one for me to write, I'd really, really appreciate knowing what you think about it. Please take the time to review! And most of all, enjoy!_

**Chapter Ten**

The three days before New Directions flew off to New York were a blur for Kurt. Their time was packed full of rehearsals, brain storming in the hope of coming up with some decent original songs, and costuming sessions, with the occasional break to go to an important class. They all sang and danced constantly. They might not have any numbers worked out, but they still knew the best way to prime themselves for the competition was to ensure that at least their voices and bodies were in prime condition, like the athletes Mr Schuester had compared them to after the fiasco of Rachel's party.

Kurt had messaged Blaine every day, mostly idle, innocuous chatter like that of friends who lived each others' lives in real time, as they once had. Kurt had worked up the courage at one point to ask if Blaine had spoken to Patrick - to which Blaine had responded that he'd tried, and been summarily ignored. Kurt tried not to feel too relieved, and instead feel slightly sorry for Patrick, whose longing for Blaine had been not dissimilar to Kurt's own.

Their trip to New York itself had been exhilarating - flying for the first time (and in first class!), parading around the city when they should have been writing songs, sneaking out and singing on the most amazing stage in the whole world with Rachel and _knowing_ that this was where he belonged. And then, even after the kiss between Rachel and Finn, singing 'Light Up the World' and feeling like he really could have lit up the world in that moment. Knowing that it didn't matter that they weren't going to win, because they were amazing and that audience was screaming for them.

Coming back to Lima was the most difficult thing Kurt had done in a very long time - almost as difficult as leaving Dalton for McKinley had been. He'd been half-tempted to call his dad and say he was never coming home, that it didn't matter where he worked or lived but he just had to stay in the city of his dreams. There were only three things pulling him back to provincial Ohio: New Directions, his family and Blaine.

Blaine had been more than sympathetic when Kurt told him that New Directions had lost rather spectacularly, coming in at a less-than-impressive twelfth place. Like a good, supportive friend, the Warbler had railed against the judges, Rachel and Finn, Vocal Adrenaline and the entire show choir establishment in general. He didn't really seem to understand that Kurt wasn't upset; while Blaine maintained a vast appreciation for New York, he'd spent many summers there over the years and had, to a certain extent, forgotten how magical its first, glowing impression was.

Which is how he ended up sitting next to Kurt on his bed at Dalton on a Saturday night, half-packed suitcase flung open at his feet, saying, 'I just don't get how you're not more upset.'

'I explained it to you already, Blaine,' Kurt said with a slight roll of his eyes. 'Being on the stage, and in New York... it was just too amazing for words. How could I possibly be sad after that?'

'But you're not even angry with Finn and Rachel!' Blaine said, pouting slightly in his confusion. 'How can you not even be the littlest bit annoyed with them?'

Expecting a quick-witted but innocent answer, Blaine was a little perturbed when his question was met by silence. He turned to Kurt, intending to nudge the boy's shoulder, but stopped short when he saw Kurt's eyes; sparking, searching and so intense Blaine felt his throat constrict.

'Have you been thinking, Blaine, like you said you would?'

Bewildered, Blaine just blinked. How on earth had they gotten to here from Kurt not being angry with Finn and Rachel? The jump had been too fast for his brain to follow, so he didn't have time to think of an answer to Kurt's question. But Kurt's eyes _compelled _him to say something. He felt pinned to the bed, those blue irises holding him down with a weight that felt like it might crush his chest. Before he knew what he was saying, Blaine was whispering the unedited truth. 'I tried, Kurt, I did, but every time I thought about it... I still... I just...'

It had been hard without Kurt. Blaine honestly had tried to think about it all while Kurt was away; how to be around Kurt without being afraid, and how to work out what they were. He hadn't been able to. Every message he'd received from his friend was a tiny stab of guilt, knowing that Blaine had made promises that he wasn't keeping. But Kurt had been several states away, not nearly close enough to counteract the ever-present fear; and all those clear, shining truths that had given him such courage and aided such progress the week before seemed to be swallowed in storm clouds.

'Blaine, I told you I couldn't keep being the strong one here, and I meant it.'

All of his excuses were weak ones, Blaine knew.

Blaine bunched the sheets tightly under his hands. Kurt's were similarly poised right next to his, the sides of their palms almost brushing. Kurt's wrist was still grazed from his attack. He was still healing from the consequences of the last time he tried to be the strong one for Blaine.

'Kurt, being with you is like... it's like dancing along the very, _very_ edge of a cliff. It's amazing and exhilarating and you feel, for a moment, like you could do _anything_,' Blaine said softly, feeling the look of wonder creep into his eyes. Then, abruptly, they deadened. 'But at the same time, you know that if someone came along and nudged you, or even if you just wobbled slightly in your dance, there's no question as to if you'd survive. You'd be dead in seconds. And, fuck, Kurt.' The curse tasted foreign in his mouth, but it was the only world that really seemed to express what he was feeling with enough force. 'That's terrifying.'

Kurt's hands were white, he was clutching the sheets on Blaine's bed so hard. He wasn't looking at Blaine any more. 'You promised,' he gasped. His voice sounded like it was tearing, ripping itself to pieces with every word.

Blaine had. He'd _promised_ Kurt that he'd find a place for them somewhere in this. And he knew now, even if the truth was partially hidden from him, that he couldn't live without Kurt in some capacity. So where was the compromise?

'Maybe I should just take a step back from the edge. Not back away entirely, but... maybe the best solution here really is if we just stay friends.'

x

As the words _stay friends_ echoed through his head, Kurt was gagging. His throat closed, his lungs failed to expand like they should, and he was suffocating. His head pounded with the memory of a fever on the day after a rain storm a whole world ago. He had come all this way - through crying in an attic, a month of isolation in a school that was supposed to be his haven, through sheer emotional abuse and then the physical abuse of a closet case out to kill him - and had arrived at this moment battered. Wounded. Ready to collapse. The only reason he'd made it here was some underlying faith in Blaine, a blind hope that maybe, just maybe the boy would come good. That he wouldn't have travelled so far for nothing.

He'd forgotten, in his idiocy, that when you travelled the entire way around the world, it didn't matter what violent oceans, what deserts or treacherous slopes you crossed. You still ended up back at the beginning.

Blaine was asking to just be friends again.

Last time they tried to be friends, Blaine had run from him again and again until they'd ended up here, two terrified, hurt boys completely lost in their own world.

'Blaine, do you know why I wasn't mad at Finn and Rachel?' Kurt finally asked. 'It's because I _understood_. I understood how they ended up at that point far too well to ever be angry at them for succumbing to the moment. I knew how it felt to be constantly back and forth on where you stood, to see the other person trying to love someone else rather than go back to you.' Kurt started to cry, exhausted tears that were the only possible way he could find to express the explosion in his chest. 'I _knew_, Blaine, how it felt to be in that moment, to feel a magnetic force so strong you could never, _ever_ have a hope of fighting it. That it didn't matter what was happening around you, if you were in front of a huge crowd or in the middle of a storm or if the _whole damn world was watching_' - Kurt was on his feet, shouting - 'because _nothing_ could stop you from being pulled to them in that moment! And then, when you kissed, you realised that _nothing else_ had ever mattered, because everything else disappeared!'

Kurt stood in front of Blaine, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring up at Kurt, looking so stunned and terrified and so gloriously beautiful Kurt felt like he was teetering on the edge of his own cliff. He reached down and grasped Blaine's face between his hands. 'And that, Blaine Anderson,' Kurt panted, 'is why we can _never_ just be friends.'

Damn Blaine and his fear. Kurt wasn't afraid. He _jumped_ off the edge of his own cliff. He didn't care about the fall any more. Tears still running down his face, he leaned down to kiss Blaine, hot and hard and fierce.

Their lips had touched for but a moment, though, when something changed. They slowed, mouths crushing to pull each other deeper, closer, and so _deliberately_ it hurt. There was a swell of tenderness and feeling in each movement they made against each other. Kurt could feel the weight of their shared world, one that only they inhabited and where everything was soothing, resting upon the kiss. Tears still streamed down his face, soft and silent, becoming a shared expression as their faces met, the wetness sliding over both their cheeks.

He kissed deeper still, tongues twining tightly between them, and relished the feeling of Blaine under his hands. Then Blaine pulled Kurt down onto the bed and rolled over him, pinning him down, and Kurt kept crying because he'd never been so close to someone in his life. He was falling _into_ Blaine, or Blaine was falling into him; as their lips continued to meld together, it felt like they weren't two people any more but he was in a part of Blaine, a close, warm darkness where he could feel Blaine's heart beat in the air around him.

'I love you,' he breathed into Blaine's mouth on their shared breath. 'I love you, god damn you. I love you.'

They pressed together, their hips meeting. And it was like being embraced by fire, Kurt's tears not enough to extinguish it. The flames that had been burning down the world around them finally reached them, leapt up their limbs to consume them - but not to destroy them. To melt and reforge them. Their bodies moved together and burned, Kurt breaking away from the kiss to bite down on Blaine's neck as he shuddered through his peak, then recapturing the other boy's mouth until Blaine was burning with him.

Eventually, they stopped, lips touching but still. 'I love you,' Kurt whispered, and let the ashes carry him into sleep.

x

Kurt woke in the morning with Blaine still half over him, the long line of the other boy pressed against his right side, heavy and wonderful. He allowed himself to wallow in the sensation for just a moment. His heart hurt more than it ever had before. But, even though he was already in so much pain, he knew it could be worse.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled himself out from under a still-sleeping Blaine and gathered his things. He paused a moment to write a note for Blaine, trying not to cry and wrinkle the page. He didn't want to cry any more. When he was fully ready to leave, he bent to put the note on the bed side table and sucked in a final breath of Blaine. He stopped, still stooped over, and closed his eyes. He had to do this. He knew it. It was just... difficult.

He kissed Blaine's rumpled curls, not knowing if he could withstand the touch of skin on skin, and slipped out the door.

Patrick's room, he remembered vaguely, was in the same block as Blaine's, next to Nick's. He walked there resolutely but quietly; he was careful not to let his boots make too much noise on the hardwood floors, mindful of the early hour. The summer sun bounced off Kurt's skin and beamed through the corridor around him, so bright it managed to make even Dalton's rich wooden panelling look clinical. He knocked on Patrick's door, identical to the rest in the row except for the little gold number, and it was pulled open almost instantly.

Patrick was already dressed despite the time, his suitcase packed and ready for his own journey home. His face turned stony the moment he saw Kurt. 'Hummel,' he said flatly. 'What do you want?'

'Can I come in, please?' Kurt asked gently. 'I don't really want to wake the rest of the corridor.'

Patrick's desire to slam the door shut clearly warred with his good upbringing for a moment, and Kurt inwardly sighed in relief as he saw the manners narrowly win out, Patrick nodding once and stepping back to allow Kurt entry. Once the door was shut, Patrick turned to Kurt, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the bare dorm room.

'What do you want?' Patrick asked, not sharply, but still without hesitation.

'I'm not really sure,' Kurt said quietly. 'I just... wanted to come to talk to you. I know Blaine hasn't been able to. And it didn't feel right, knowing how things ended between you two.'

Patrick looked faintly disbelieving. 'So... what? You thought, because Blaine chose you over me, you'd be all magnanimous and come make sure I was ok? Tell me it was nothing that I did wrong, I just wasn't right for him?' Patrick waited, but Kurt didn't respond, so he pressed further. 'Or are you here to gloat instead? Rub in how happy you are together?'

Kurt flinched. 'No. I swear, I'm not.' He searched the empty room for inspiration and found none, until he looked Patrick full in the face, where he found it. Regardless of who had broken up with who, Patrick was still in pain. 'I guess I'm just trying to understand why you broke up with him over me. We weren't even friends at that point. He wouldn't speak to me.'

Patrick flopped himself into a Dalton-issue desk chair and looked at Kurt appraisingly. Kurt, remembering that Patrick had always been quite socially adept, allowed the boy to read his face. Running one hand through his messy brown hair, Patrick eventually said, in a conversational tone, 'Right when Blaine first asked me out, Andrew - he's a senior, friends with my older brother - warned me about you. Said that sure, Blaine was hot and charming and whatever, but there was a mess going on between the two of you and no one should be dumb enough to get in the way. But I did anyway, because you were gone, and I really wanted him. Had for what felt like forever.' Patrick stopped and let out a self-deprecating laugh. 'Why am I telling you this? I don't owe you any of it.'

'Because that, at least, I already understand,' Kurt said gently, tentatively going to sit on the stripped down bed. 'I always knew that you wanted him. I recognised the signs,' he said wryly.

'Yeah, I suppose you did,' Patrick mumbled, running his hand through his hair again. Kurt irrationally wondered if that nervous habit was solely responsible for the every-which-way look Patrick's hair always seemed to have. 'Well, everything was good for a bit. I had the boyfriend of my dreams. Right up until you got hurt, and he came to me crying and talking about storm clouds on snow as if it actually made sense.' Patrick flicked a curious glance at Kurt. 'Don't suppose you can explain that one?' he asked. Kurt shook his head.

'That seemed to trigger a completely different Blaine, pretty much.' Patrick said with a sigh, and an air of someone who had already repeated these words more than once to numerous concerned parties. 'There were glimpses of the boy I thought I'd known, but they were few and far between. And then, when Blaine decided to go see you with the other Warblers and we fought about it, I finally realised how stupid I'd been. Because Andrew was totally and completely right, and there was still a mess between you. But I also realised something that Andrew probably didn't - there was a whole extra version of Blaine hiding under his mask of charm, one that only seemed to come out when he was thinking about you.'

Patrick looked at Kurt, and noticed how white he was - the other boy looked positively sickly. 'You don't look happy to hear this,' he said musingly.

'I'm not,' Kurt said shakily. 'I just... I keep wondering when this got so messy. And I'm so, so sorry you got caught up in this, Patrick. I know how much it hurts.'

'Do you? Because I don't see you alone at the end of the game.'

'I am alone.'

The three words seemed to be suspended in the air for a moment before they settled over the boys, like a fistful of flour flung over their heads. 'What?' Patrick gaped, leaning forward. 'You're telling me you guys haven't gotten together? How is that possible? I thought once he'd forgiven you for whatever you'd done, you guys would have been together in a heartbeat.'

It was Kurt's turn to gape. 'You thought I did something to cause this? Patrick, did you honestly think that all the Warblers would have stayed my friends if _I'd_ done something to _Blaine_?'

Kurt was met with blankness for a moment, before Patrick suddenly looked like he'd been slapped in the face. 'Oh my God. You're as much a victim here as I am.'

Kurt laughed. 'Oh, Patrick, we're hardly victims. We let Blaine do this to us.'

'So... if you're here at Dalton... if you've stuck by Blaine all this time... I still don't get it. Why aren't you together?'

Kurt mused over the best way to answer this for a moment, trying to dodge all the emotion that came with his thoughts. 'Not even I know what "storm clouds on snow" means. There are some parts of Blaine he just won't put on the line.'

'But he gives you more than anyone. The only time I ever saw him passionate was in relation to you. And you, I mean, you obviously care for him -'

'I love him.' That, at least, was one thing Kurt wasn't going to hide from any more. No matter how much it hurt, he loved Blaine, and would stand proudly by that love even as he was torn down.

'You love him,' Patrick echoed. 'So, if you love him, and he gives you so much more than he gives anyone else - isn't it enough?'

And for a moment, seen through Patrick's eyes, it almost was. But then the very last two words Blaine had spoken to him - _just friends_ - resurged through Kurt's veins.

'It took throwing myself off a cliff to realise exactly why Blaine keeps part of himself protected,' Kurt said with a sad smile. 'Everyone has the point where they're too scared of getting hurt any deeper.'

Patrick clearly didn't comprehend everything, but he understood enough. 'It doesn't really matter who we are or what we do, does it? We're all just scared teenage boys in the end.'

'We're all scared, yes,' Kurt said slowly, 'but who we are and what we do definitely matters, Patrick. You had the strength to admit that Blaine wasn't who you expected, and the strength to walk away from what you wanted. That matters. I think you came out the best of all of us.'

Patrick smiled gently at Kurt, suddenly looking a lot older than a sophomore. As Kurt headed for the door, Patrick put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. 'Hey, you're walking away too.'

Kurt almost cried then. He grasped the hand on his shoulder for the briefest moment and said, 'Thanks, Patrick. But I'm not walking. I'm running.'

x

Blaine woke two hours before he had to leave Dalton to an empty bed, a half-packed suitcase and a chest that felt like it would explode. He didn't understand anything that he was feeling. It was all too much, _way _ too much, and he needed Kurt. He had a feeling nothing in the world would ever make sense again unless Kurt was there to help him decode it.

But Kurt wasn't there. Instead, folded neatly on the edge of the bed side table, was a piece of note paper with Blaine's name on it. Blaine regarded it with dread. He had no idea what it would say, nor did he even know what he _wanted_ it to say. What did he want from Kurt? He hadn't even begun to comprehend anything that happened, so how could he possibly know what he wanted to happen next? His head and heart were already too full.

Taking advantage of his temporary confusion and using it to feign numbness, Blaine forced himself to pick up the note. The crisp edge of the paper dragged across his fingertips like a tiny graze. Blaine closed his eyes before he opened it so he wouldn't have to see bits revealed one at a time.

A deep breath, a drop of the shoulders. He opened his eyes and read.

_Oh. _It didn't matter what he wanted, in the end. _Oh, Kurt. I'm so, so sorry._

Blaine curled in on himself, heedlessly crushing the note under him, and sobbed.

_Blaine,_

_I couldn't stay. I couldn't give you everything and still have to watch you run again; it would have broken me. I'm sorry. This time, I have to run from you before you can run from me._

_I love you._


	11. Chapter 11

****_I hope you enjoy this chapter, the last official chapter of _Slow Dancing in a Burning Room_. Thank you so much for all of your reviews on the last chapter - they inspired me to put everything I could into getting this out. I love you guys for supporting this story. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to respond to everyone in person - it came down to enough time to reply to reviews or write this, and I thought you'd prefer it if I wrote!_

_Please, please let me know what you think about this chapter. It means a lot to me. I also had an idea that I wanted some feedback on - this story, right from the get go, has been _very_ much shaped by music in almost every scene, be it in lyrics or atmosphere or the song appearing in the chapter itself. If you guys wanted, at the end of the epilogue I could give you the "soundtrack" for this fic, such as it is, with some notes about how this particular song influenced that scene or chapter. Certainly I very, very rarely write without an influential song playing. Let me know what you think - if I get enough requests, I'll write it up. __Thanks for reading!_

**Chapter Eleven**

Wes entered Blaine's room half an hour later to find him still curled on his bed, eyes swollen and half-closed. His hands were fisted in his hair and he was shivering, despite the summer heat. Quietly crossing the floor, Wes put a hand on his friend's shoulder. 'Blaine?' Blaine turned away from the touch. 'Blaine, what's wrong?'

'It hurts,' Blaine croaked. 'It hurts so badly.'

'What happened, Blaine? I, ah, saw Kurt leaving Patrick's room.'

Blaine blinked, not even trying to absorb that fact. It hardly mattered at this point. He rolled into his pillow. 'This is everything I was afraid of,' Blaine whispered.

'What did you say, Blaine?'

Blaine's pillow was still salty-wet, and it chafed against his raw skin. 'This is everything I was afraid of,' Blaine repeated. He wasn't sure if he was speaking to himself or Wes. 'This hurt is exactly what I was running from, and -' he faltered, struggling around a dry sob. 'I brought it all down upon myself anyway.'

Wes stared uncomprehendingly. He didn't understand a shred of what Blaine had said, and this was certainly not how he'd imagined his last day with Blaine at Dalton would go. But maybe this was fitting; maybe his last act as the leader of the Warblers should be a kindness to the boy who had represented them so well, and to provide comfort to a friend. He sat down on the rumpled bed next to Blaine, settling his hand more firmly on the boy's back. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

'No. God, no.'

Wes nodded. 'In that case, it's time to get up, Anderson,' he said, and gently but firmly pulled Blaine into a sitting position. He looked down at Blaine's half-full suitcase on the floor and chided, 'It's moving day, and you're not even packed. Typical.' This last word with a gentle nudge to the shoulder. 'Since I happen to be entirely packed, I guess I can help you out while you shower.' He pushed Blaine into a standing position and towards the bathroom. Blaine wavered on his feet for a moment before shuffling in and closing the door. Wes sighed in relief when he heard water strike tile and began to pack Blaine's things.

Not being the most precise of packers, Wes was almost done by the time the water had turned off. Grabbing a set of clothes that he'd put aside, he tentatively rapped on the door and took the hum in response as an invitation to enter.

Blaine was standing in front of his mirror, towel wrapped around his waist, fingering a bite mark low on his neck, almost at the join to his shoulder. It looked recent, and although shallow, was purpled around the edges. Blaine's eyes were fixed on it with a mix of sadness and pain that made Wes fumble the clothes he was holding. Setting them on the counter, he caught Blaine's eye in the mirror and said evenly, 'One day, you'll tell me about that, okay? But not today.'

Blaine didn't overtly respond, but his face softened slightly. Wes touched a hand to the shorter boy's shoulder for the briefest of moments, and went out to finish packing.

An hour later found them standing outside the school, waiting for a taxi to pick Blaine up and take him to the airport. There was mostly silence between them beyond the occasional idle comment from Wes. Then, as the taxi appeared at the end of Dalton's rather long drive, Blaine abruptly flung himself at Wes, tightly engulfing him. Wes, shocked, took a moment to return the hug, but he found himself squeezing just as hard as Blaine whispered, 'Thank you, Wes. So much.'

'You're more than welcome,' Wes replied gently. He pulled back and looked Blaine in the eye. 'Blaine, I know Kurt and I know you. This is all going to turn out okay.'

Blaine sniffed, pulling Wes close one last time as the taxi pulled up. 'You're the first person to tell me that,' was the only reply he had. 'I'll miss you.'

'I'll make it to New York sometime over the summer,' Wes said. 'Text me when you get to your apartment.'

And then Blaine was in the taxi leaving Dalton, and Wes turned away to spend a few last, cherished hours with any remaining Warblers.

x

Blaine arrived at his parents' apartment in New York and locked himself in his room.

And then, sitting alone, he began to think.

He thought all the way back to singing 'Collide' with Kurt in the attic - a place he'd never shown anyone else. He thought about how peaceful Kurt had looked, half-asleep as Blaine sang him a lullaby. He thought about how, standing under strikes of lightning, Kurt shone.

On the third day, he thought about Patrick, a boy Blaine hadn't loved and who hadn't loved Blaine. He thought about the Warblers, who loved him dearly, dearly enough to let him live a lie if it was what he wanted. Who had let him cut another person out of their circle, if it would preserve that lie.

To finally really _think_ about this, to not run but be still, was a huge strain. It didn't feel like he was thinking with his brain, but his soul. It was so exhausting that sometimes he felt like he didn't even have the energy to slide his eyelids shut. He pretended that was the reason his eyes misted over so often.

He thought about Kurt saying he'd live a lie for Blaine. And then he thought about all the other things Kurt had sacrificed. It took him almost a whole day to eliminate from his head the image of Kurt, bruised all over and an IV in his arm, holding Blaine's iPod and saying, '_I was getting out of your way_.'

On the sixth day, he thought about how Kurt had stood in the middle of the music room and said, '_I'll protect you when you're vulnerable, but you need to stop hiding._'

He thought about what he'd said to Wes - '_This is everything I was afraid of_.'

He pulled a crumpled piece of note paper out of his bag and wondered how much it took to make the bravest person in the whole world scared enough to run.

On the eighth day, he picked up all his thoughts like toy blocks and rearranged them into every different pattern he could conceive of.

On the eleventh day, he thought about the odd wording he'd used in his promise to Kurt - not a pledge to figure out what they were, but to find their place together.

He thought about the fact that Kurt hadn't made sacrifices without purpose. He had made sacrifices _to_ Blaine. Blaine let the worlds '_I love you_' reverberate through his chest.

On the twelfth day, he finally faced the agony he was feeling head on, and let himself cry again one last time.

He thought about how it had felt to be pressed against Kurt, lying together as they burned, and about the difference between falling and flying. He let himself live the moment again - the twined tongues, the shared breaths. It had felt like Kurt had surrendered entirely, that he had taken all of himself and poured it into Blaine.

Blaine gasped when he realised that, in that moment, he'd actually felt... _strong_. Holding Kurt's everything, he'd felt strong enough to conquer anything.

He thought about the edge of the cliff -

And realised that if there was a difference between flying and falling, it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that he'd left the edge, and Kurt had taken him home.

On the fourteenth day, Blaine asked to go back to Ohio.

x

Blaine was impatient, exhausted and anxious beyond belief, but finally, he was almost in Lima.

He'd refused to take 'no' as an answer from his parents - not that they'd paid a huge amount of attention - and had caught the last flight out of New York to Columbus, where he'd been unable to escape the airport until after 11. Then he'd had to wait for a taxi to take him to the storage complex his car had been locked in for the summer - where he had a frantic moment of panic, thinking he'd misplaced the key - before finally being able to start the two hour drive to Lima around midnight.

He knew that it probably wasn't safe, driving along empty stretches of road in the middle of the night like this, hampered by nerves and tiredness. Occasionally he'd start to drift off the road, jerking back on track at the last moment. And yeah, it was probably really stupid to be pulling a stunt as dramatic as this. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed to talk to Kurt desperately. He'd already waited two weeks - no, hell, he'd really waited _months_ to get to this point - and waiting any longer, extending the pain for both of them, seemed like the most stupid thing of all.

Ten minutes out of town, Blaine finally picked up his phone and dialled a number, putting it on speaker. He was counting on his knowledge of Kurt's habits to help him get through this bit. If he knew Kurt well enough and was very, very lucky, Kurt would be asleep but still have his phone on and nearby. He'd be woken by the call, being a light sleeper, and hopefully be too confused by the rather rude awakening to properly read the caller ID before he answered. Blaine was banking on that; he knew otherwise, he probably had no hope of Kurt answering his call.

The dial tone abruptly cut out and a hushed, sleepy voice drifted from the speaker. 'Hello?'

'Kurt!' Blaine half-yelped. He was pretty sure he'd rehearsed this bit, but he definitely couldn't remember what he was supposed to say. 'Uh... it's Blaine.'

'Blaine?' the voice asked, a lot brighter, but still masked by the drowsy tone. Blaine felt a bittersweet pang when he realised, in this stolen moment before Kurt's consciousness fully roused, the boy's subconscious still trusted him. He heard the moment when Kurt properly came to himself, though - there was a hitching breath, and suddenly Kurt's voice, though dropped to a whisper, was markedly harsher. 'Blaine, what do you want?'

'In ten minutes, could you please come outside?'

There was a long silence as Kurt tried to comprehend this strange request. 'Come outside? Why? You're in New York.' Another pause, and then, 'Blaine, is that a _car_ I hear in the background?'

'I'm driving to your house now.'

'At two in the morning? Blaine, what the hell?'

'I really need to talk to you. Please come outside.'

'Blaine. It's two in the morning. And... I don't want to talk to you.'

Blaine's heart twisted. He played Kurt's voice over and over again in his head, that same gasp of, '_I love you. I love you, god damn you. I love you._'

'Please, Kurt,' he said. 'Please, just come outside and talk to me. Just for a little while. That's all I'm asking for.'

'Why should I? What could you possibly say that could make this better?' Kurt sounded weary and wary and sad and angry all once. Blaine was amazed that just his voice in isolation could be so expressive.

'Kurt, I know I promised I'd think. And I did; I've been doing nothing but thinking. And then I travelled all the way here to you at two in the morning because the very moment I worked it all out, I had to come and tell you about it, so I could fix this.'

'Blaine, disregarding the absolutely ridiculous assumption you can fix this, it's been two weeks.'

'I had a lot to think about,' Blaine said wryly. 'Look, I'm less than five minutes away. Please. You can leave any time you want, but I'm _begging_ you to at least try to hear me out.'

Kurt let out a deep, shuddering breath. 'I don't want to give you another chance. I want to say that you've wasted too many of them and to just stay out of my life.' He stopped there, and Blaine's shaky hands very nearly ran him off the road. Recognising one too many a close call, he slowed, just for a moment. And then Kurt kept speaking. 'But... god, I don't want to give you another chance, but I have to. It's a compulsion. I can't help it.' Blaine heard the rustling of fabric, followed by the sound of a door opening. 'Fine. Meet me out front. Park down the street or you'll wake my dad.' And then the line disconnected.

Blaine pulled into the car park for a playground down Kurt's street only a few moments later, grabbing his bag and practically throwing himself out of the driver's seat. He made his way to Kurt's house, trying to navigate a street plunged into darkness as quickly as possible. When he reached Kurt's front lawn he stumbled, not able to see the low-lying plants edging the grass, uncoordinated from his exhaustion. He struggled to right himself for a moment, starting to topple forward, when arms emerged from the darkness to catch him.

Uncertainty was rife in the atmosphere around them, so thick in the air it almost clotted Blaine's airways and blinded him. And yet, he'd never felt so safe as he had falling back into those arms.

'God, Blaine, you're not usually this clumsy,' came a harsh whisper in his ear, breaking Blaine out of his momentary reverie.

'I know. 'm sorry,' Blaine mumbled. 'Tired. Haven't been sleeping. Took the very last flight to Columbus, then drove straight here.'

Kurt took a moment to ensure Blaine could stand on his own before letting go and stepping back. 'You're an idiot,' he said flatly.

'Maybe,' Blaine said, 'but I still _really_ needed to talk to you. So here I am.'

Kurt surveyed Blaine for a moment longer, taking in his stubbled face and rumpled clothes, before indicating the side gate with a quick wave of his hand. 'We need to go to the back garden, if you're so set on talking. We're outside Dad and Carole's window right now.'

Blaine nodded and let Kurt lead him through the (thankfully soundless) gate, following until they stopped at a patch of grass as far as they could get from the house. There, Kurt paused, looking at Blaine uncertainly. The shorter boy swayed on his feet slightly, and with a sheepish half-smile, asked, 'Can we sit, please? I'm not sure how long I can stand up at the moment.'

The look Kurt threw between his own hastily donned clothes and the grass was almost comical in its hesitancy, but then Blaine swayed a little more violently, and so Kurt tentatively sank to the ground. Blaine followed, sitting cross-legged opposite Kurt, barely an inch between their knees. To Blaine, in his ever so slightly delirious state, the grass was one of the most comforting surfaces he had ever sat on, it was that soft and warm. Even for summer, it was an unseasonably warm night, the kind of night where the heat of the day lingered, seeming not to hang in the air but to have replaced it. The grass, too, had refused to relinquish the sunlight it had absorbed during the day; and thus surrounded and cushioned by such warmth, Blaine felt a momentary urge to just lie down and _sleep_.

'So?' Kurt prompted, voice still hushed. 'You wanted to talk.'

'I don't really know where to begin,' Blaine replied. 'I should just explain what got me here, I guess. I mean, thought-wise.' Slightly irrationally, he looked to Kurt for approval, as if Kurt knew the direction Blaine was going in and might have some input on a good starting place. When Kurt just kept staring with the same wary look on his face, Blaine ploughed on. 'I said that I've never broken a promise to you, Kurt, and from the very moment you left, I intended to maintain that. And I'd promised to think about this properly, which I didn't do when I should have. So I did nothing but think for two weeks straight, and-'

'You did,' Kurt broke in.

'What?' Blaine asked, confused.

'You did still break a promise,' Kurt said. 'You promised me that you'd take advantage of those ten seconds every day. It's been _two weeks_, and I haven't heard a word from you.'

'I suspect it won't help me if I point out you broke that promise too,' Blaine muttered, his brain-mouth filter completely shot to hell. Reaching into his bag, he asked, 'Kurt, be honest. If I'd tried to text or call you, would you have replied? Picked up the phone?'

Mutely, Kurt shook his head, trying to see what Blaine was getting out of his bag. Blaine smiled slightly as his fingers curled around the edge of a book and he drew it out, pressing it into Kurt's hands. 'I knew full well you wouldn't talk to me, so I put your ten seconds every day - or much more, as the case may be - into this. You're just receiving them on delay.'

'What is this?' Kurt asked, turning the thick book over in his hands. It felt like leather, and was the size of a journal, if a bit thicker than average.

'In there, I wrote all my thoughts from the last two weeks. Everything that I went through while trying to think about all that had happened, all that we'd done, all that I'd felt - it all went into that book.'

Kurt looked down at the journal with something a little like awe, from what Blaine could see with his slowly sharpening night vision. But then the pale boy's face hardened once more, and Blaine wanted to groan.

'You broke another promise, too,' he said, stubbornness infusing his tone. 'You promised you'd find a place for us. And "just friends" certainly didn't count,' he added with a sharp frown.

'That's in the book, too,' Blaine said. Kurt, looking dubious, went to open the cover, but Blaine's hands shot out, grabbing Kurt's and holding them still. 'Don't,' he said softly. 'Not right now. I... I know it's presumptuous of me, but... I was kind of hoping we could go through it together. Later. There's a _lot_ to absorb in there - I mean, hell, there's no easy fix here. I was hoping we could take our time on it.'

Kurt was staring down at their hands, touching once more. Blaine _prayed_ that Kurt was feeling the same burn in the skin that he was. The slender hands were certainly tense, slight spasms running through them that Blaine could feel pulse under his fingers. 'I don't understand,' Kurt whispered, sounding helpless. 'What do you want from me?'

And for the first time, Blaine was really and truly prepared to answer.

'You. I want to be back in your life, in any way you'll have me. Though...' Blaine hesitated, drawing up every single ounce of courage he'd ever had. More than he'd needed to live with being bullied every day, more than he'd needed to take a new school by storm, more than he'd needed putting himself through two weeks of torturous purgatory to get himself to this point. 'More than anything, Kurt, I just really want to be with you. As your boyfriend.'

Kurt's head flew up so quickly it was almost a blur. His eyes were blown so wide that even in the dead of night, Blaine could see the glowing white, the brilliant blue of the iris. They were _so_ incredibly, heartbreaking vulnerable. And just for the sheer honestly and exquisiteness of the moment, whatever happened next, everything Blaine had done thus far was worth it.

'W-why?' Kurt stuttered, sounding very young. 'What changed?'

This, Blaine had anticipated. He'd learned it all so well, echoed the reasons through his mind so many times, that he knew he'd be able to repeat what he was about to say until the day he died.

And then inspiration struck. Turning Kurt's hands over in his grasp so they lay palm up in Kurt's lap, he ran his thumbs in slow circles over the smooth skin, cherishing the feel of the life line and the rise to the heel of the hand. Kurt shuddered visibly, the tremors running through right to his fingers, but his eyes never left Blaine.

'When I was thinking, I realised I couldn't think of a single good reason to stay away any more,' Blaine said gently, moving their joined hands into his own lap without meeting any resistance. 'But, more to the point, I came up with ten very, _very_ good reasons for wanting you, ten reasons that I _had _to have you the very second I could.' Then, lifting Kurt's hands up, the pale palms still facing towards the sky, he kissed the pad of Kurt's right thumb, quickly but tenderly. 'Our voices sound amazing together,' he said with a soft smile, before pressing a similar kiss to the tip of Kurt's index finger. 'I want to be able to kiss you - just like this - whenever, wherever, for the rest of my life. I want to feel my lips and my skin tingle and burn.'

Kurt gasped, closing his eyes, and Blaine's smile widened very slightly. Kurt felt the burn too. He was a little sad to not have Kurt's eyes in front of him for this, the most important thing he'd ever done, urging him on and reminding him second by second exactly how big the rewards would be, if only he could bare that little more naked soul. But, at the same time, if Kurt needed to close his eyes to cope...

Blaine kissed the pad of third finger, Kurt's middle finger. He let his lips linger for a fraction of a second longer this time, his bottom lip dragging very, very lightly over the skin. It was the tiniest contact Blaine could imagine, but he knew Kurt felt it by the way the boy shifted slightly on the grass. 'I need you in my life,' he said. 'It's not an option, not at all. And we both know we can never just be friends.' A little more tension sagged out of Kurt's frame.

The fourth finger now, the ring finger on the right hand, Blaine trying to put as much feeling as he could into such a brief touch of his lips. His voice dropped the slightly teasing tone it had maintained until now, taking on something serious and deeper. 'You woke me up, Kurt,' he said simply. 'I was living in a dreamland, and you came along and showed me that, showed me that there was a whole extra dimension to my personality that I didn't even know existed. Someone who could feel so much more strongly, had so much more to give. You made me a better person when you stopped letting me sleep.'

A tear slipped unobtrusively down Kurt's cheek. Blaine didn't want to let go of Kurt's hands, but he wanted to catch every single tear Kurt cried from now until the end. He also couldn't kiss it away - he wouldn't kiss anything more than Kurt's fingertips until he had permission. Instead, he leaned forward, nuzzling into Kurt's cheek with his own. Their breaths mingled, eyelashes fluttering against each other's skin, and for a moment it was heaven. But then Blaine remembered he still had six reasons to go in the first step towards making things better.

He pulled back to kiss Kurt's right pinky finger and left his lips pressed there while he gathered himself. He'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't cry any more after that twelfth day locked in his room, but that didn't stop him from choking as he explained his fifth reason. 'I don't think I'll ever find anyone who loves me quite as well as you do,' he said, half-strangled. 'You've loved me honestly and faithfully and far, far more than I ever deserved. You tried to give me what I needed, even when it hurt you in a multitude of ways. I'll never be able to make up for all the sacrifices you made. And then you stood by your love, even when you were scared and you thought you'd be standing alone. I... I just...'

He pulled Kurt's left hand towards him and desperately pressed a kiss to Kurt's other pinky finger, trying to swallow his feelings. 'I was always scared of getting hurt, so I ran. And right from the beginning, you asked, "And this doesn't hurt already?" It did, but that didn't stop be from being scared.' Blaine sucked in a deep breath. 'But the morning I woke up to find your note... I've got nothing left to be afraid of, Kurt, because nothing could _possibly_ hurt more than that moment did.'

His voice cracked and wavered so badly, and he bent his head in one last frantic attempt to ward off tears. Then Kurt's face was there, buried in his hair, making soothing noises just as he would have a life time ago. And it was enough.

Blaine touched his lips to the left ring finger, slower this time, his lips moulding around the slight curve. 'More importantly, though, when we were together on my bed, and it felt like you'd surrendered something and we were both merging into one person... I felt _strong_, Kurt. Stronger than I ever had in my entire life. Strong enough to face anything, no matter how scared I was of it. And that's the definition of courage, isn't it?' he asked, raising his head again in the hopes that Kurt's eyes were open. They were, and Blaine found affirmation within them. 'You give me courage,' he whispered.

Blaine let his breath flush hot against Kurt's palm for a second, tracing it all the way up the slender digit before he kissed the tip of the eight finger. 'Being with you might always be like dancing along the edge of a cliff, I don't know. But you taught me the difference between falling and flying.'

Kurt was crying in earnest now, tears streaming freely over the smooth skin of his cheeks. Blaine tried to nuzzle them all away. 'Just two more now,' he whispered into Kurt's ear. 'Hold on for me, just for two more.'

Kurt nodded, sniffling, so Blaine pulled Kurt's index finger to him, letting his lips part slightly to trap the finger tip between them, feeling the skin drag as he pulled away. 'I swore I'd find a place for us, and in a sense, I did, and I wrote it in the book. But really, Kurt, all I did was figure out where it was. You're the one that actually found it and took us there. As clichéd as it sounds, you took us home, Kurt. There's no other way to describe it, the place where our heartbeats pound in the same space, resonating together. You found the place for us.'

And finally, there was only one more to go, the most exposing of all. But Blaine was more than ready. There was no hesitation as he kissed Kurt's thumb, and said clearly, 'Kurt, I love you.'

Kurt's hands were abruptly ripped out of Blaine's, leaving Blaine reeling for the shortest of moments, before his face was captured between Kurt's palms. 'Oh, you stupid, crazy, _amazing_-' Kurt started, before his voice failed him. 'I love you, too,' he said finally, and surged forward.

And it was exactly like Kurt described. The rest of the world disappeared when their lips met in a heated lock. Their bottom lips slid over each other with the most amazing friction, their tongues twisted together in intricate patterns, and every time Kurt brushed against the roof of Blaine's mouth he groaned as nerves felt like they were exploding. Their hands grasped closer, closer, until Blaine was toppling backwards onto the grass below; Kurt pushed their torsos together, and the feeling of weight and body heat and intimacy was incredible, but still somehow not enough. Their legs twined and their mouths pushed even closer, staying so close that even when they breathed, the air they sucked in tasted of each other's skin -

And the warm grass didn't matter, the beautiful summer night sky didn't matter. Because there it was, as they merged; their world was a heartbeat in the dark, and another _right there_ in response.


	12. Epilogue

_Hello, everyone! Here we are at the epilogue for _Slow Dancing in a Burning Room. _Thank you all so much for your support of this story - you've all been instrumental in me seeing this through to completion, and your reviews have meant so much to me. I know I've been out of action for a few weeks, but starting from tomorrow I'll be going back and replying to all you awesome people who reviewed the last chapter - I definitely haven't forgotten, I just figured you'd prefer the epilogue over a reply! I'll then be going back and editing out all the typos I know are in this story after all the 1 and 2 am chapter uploads (like this one)._

_I've written up an annotated "soundtrack" for this story, as mentioned in the last chapter, but it ended up being too long to comfortably tack onto the end; so if you would like it, just say so, and I'll PM/email it to you. (A reminder that if you write an email address in a review, the site will edit it out unless you replace the symbols with words.) Otherwise, enjoy the epilogue, and again, thank you very much! You're all amazing!_

**Epilogue**

'Okay, now be honest, can you see anything?'

'No. Blaine, why do I have to tie a scarf around my eyes? I think I'm old enough to be trusted to keep my eyes shut.'

'Because I've always played it this way. Now, hush.' Blaine finished tying his scarf tightly around Kurt's eyes, leaving a grey, woollen bow nestled in the silky brown hair. He tweaked the bow, smirking.

'This scarf smells so much like you, I'm literally getting weak at the knees. I won't make it to two hundred without collapsing onto the floor,' Kurt mumbled, flushing slightly.

Blaine chuckled and tucked his head into the crook of Kurt's neck from behind, kissing the blissfully warm skin. 'Just try,' he replied. 'Now, remember, no peeking. And count slowly. It's a big school.'

Kurt wriggled his shoulders, abruptly displacing his boyfriend's head. 'Hurry up, then! One, two, three, four...'

Blaine immediately started running, dashing out of Dalton's main foyer with a grin on his face. 'Count slower than that!' he tossed over his shoulder, before disappearing through a doorway.

Kurt was up to one hundred and twelve, shifting and swaying on his feet, when a familiar voice interrupted him. 'Uh, Kurt... why are you standing alone in the middle of the foyer, with a scarf over your eyes, counting?'

Kurt hastily pulled the scarf up from over his head, and then even more hastily attempted to fix his ruined hair. As his fingers swiftly stroked through his fringe, he said with a roll of his eyes, 'Blaine still thinks that we're five years old, despite all my best efforts to convince him otherwise.'

Patrick snickered slightly. 'I could make all sorts of jokes about neither of you being anywhere close to five years old, judging by the noises coming out of Blaine's room every Friday and Saturday night - but I'm a classy kind of guy, so I won't.'

Kurt was bright red as he muttered, 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

Patrick laughed, the sound ringing through the hall. 'You keep telling yourselves that. Just remember - I'm making this comment, and I live three doors down. Spare a thought for the boys between us.'

Even around his embarrassment, Kurt couldn't help but contrast the Patrick before him with the one from six months ago, at the beginning of summer. Not only was the boy taller - he was swiftly heading for an almost freakish Finn-height - but he treated Kurt with an openness and ease that Kurt couldn't help but like. This was the Patrick that the rest of Dalton had always known, free from a drama that wasn't really his. 'How's junior year treating you so far?' Kurt asked. 'I heard you re-joined the Warblers.'

'I was never really gone. I just... took a hiatus,' Patrick said. He hesitated, before continuing, 'I've wanted to thank you for that, but I usually only ever see the back of you when you sneak out the dorm house after curfew. But, yeah. Thanks.'

'Thanks for causing what is now famously known as The Awkward Moment When Kurt Made Blaine Talk To Patrick?'

Patrick laughed again. 'It wouldn't have been so famously awkward if Blaine hadn't tried to start the conversation in the middle of a busy corridor when I was about to drop twelve physics text books.'

'Yes, I did hear about that. Somewhere in the middle of a rant that both started and finished with, "I am never doing anything that you tell me to do ever again, Kurt Hummel".'

'Well, either way, I'm really glad you forced the conversation. It's nice being back in the Warblers,' Patrick said. 'I never joined before Blaine, because I didn't think the kind of strict step-by-step regulation would suit, but...' he trailed off, looking for the right words. His forehead crinkled in slight frustration; and with a flash of insight, Kurt knew that one day, someone would find that expression irresistibly adorable. It might even be one of the hundreds of tiny reasons someone fell in love with Patrick, just as Kurt had fallen for Blaine.

'The camaraderie more than makes up for it, doesn't it?' Kurt asked finally. He knew exactly where Patrick was coming from. 'The strict rules take a while to get used to, but the guys are worth it. They're always there.'

Patrick nodded. 'Speaking of, how's David? I noticed that you guys spam each other's Facebook walls a lot.'

'David's having far too good a time for pre-law. He should be ashamed of himself.'

Patrick shifted slightly closer, his face taking on a more serious cast. 'And how are you, Kurt? I mean, I heard a little bit about you when I talked to Blaine, but... at the start of the summer, you said you were running away. And then in September you guys were together, and I never got the story.'

Kurt tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment. He wanted to give Patrick an honest answer - after all, Patrick had had the decency to do the same, that horrible morning when everything had looked so hopeless. 'I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. I mean, we definitely have our fights, but I know he loves me back now, so you end up just letting a surprising amount go.'

'You still fight?' For all that he'd witnessed, Patrick still seemed surprised. 'I would've thought that once you worked it out and got together, everything would be, I don't know, easy.'

'It took you and Blaine, what, six hours of solid talking just to come to an understanding?' Kurt asked. 'We had a lot more to work through. It's taken us six months, and we still have a few pages left.'

'Pages?'

'Long story,' Kurt said, before jumping slightly. 'I'd better go - I just realised I probably would have been done counting to two hundred quite a while ago. And I can't let Blaine think he's actually won for once.'

A comical realisation dawned on Patrick's face. 'Hide and seek?' he asked.

'Five year old,' Kurt confirmed.

'Well, good luck. All awkwardness aside, it was good to see you, Kurt,' Patrick said, clapping Kurt on the shoulder. 'And happy holidays!'

'You too,' Kurt said, smiling up at the younger boy, before darting in the same direction he'd heard Blaine's footsteps go.

x

Blaine slipped quietly through Dalton's gardens, relishing the slight crunch of the frozen grass under his feet and the cold air filling his lungs. Even though he knew back at the school Kurt was counting down the seconds until he started searching, Blaine took the time to properly drink in the way the snow curled around bushes, dusted the fountains and piled against the old, beautiful walls of his school. The grounds were inarguably stunning in spring, a well coordinated swirl of colour that even the teenage boys it surrounded had to stop and marvel at; but for some reason, Blaine had always loved the gardens best when they were filled with the peaceful hush of winter. And so, in his last winter at Dalton, it was unsurprising that Blaine lingered longer than he ever had before.

He finally reached his destination, a river sluggish and muffled by ice, and settled himself on a stone bench hidden by the trees that lined the bank. The bench, while almost as cold to sit on as the ice would have been, was beautifully carved and just big enough for two. Blaine reached into the pocket on the inside of his jacket, his gloved fingers slipping slightly over something, and cursed quietly. No matter how much he liked to pretend Kurt's innate grace was gradually rubbing off on him, he would never be anything but clumsy with gloves on. Stripping the woollen covers off his fingers, and grimacing at the thought of how they'd be red and swollen with cold in mere minutes, he quickly reached back into his pocket and grabbed hold of two books.

He pulled them into his lap and stared at their leather covers for a moment - one black and getting very battered, one much newer and blue with a silver trim. The two volumes were his testament of the past year, starting from when they had sung together last Christmas, his year of and falling for and dancing with and loving Kurt Hummel. Flipping one open, Blaine read random passages and relived the memories that came with them, both the wonderful and the painful.

While it had only taken fourteen days to fill the original journal, it had taken six months to understand everything that it contained. Blaine had known, as he'd held Kurt's hands in the dark garden and kissed each of the boy's fingers, that he had only taken the very first step to making everything right, and then better than it had ever been. So true to his word, Blaine had gone through each and every page with Kurt, trying to understand how everything had happened so he could fix it properly. A single page, a single paragraph - hell, even sometimes a single sentence - had prompted hours of discussion at times.

And while some of it had been easy, full of fond reminiscence or childhood memories that made a startling link to the present that Blaine would have never drawn on his own, many of the conversations had been difficult. There had been times where they fought, and Kurt's ten seconds that day had consisted of a text message saying, '_I love you, but I just can't deal with your right now. Don't use your ten seconds today, please._' And Blaine had only escalated Kurt's anger by replying with, '_Sorry, Kurt, but I promised. Every day. I love you, even when you don't seem to understand me._' Running his fingers over the tears and scratches in the black journal's cover, Blaine smiled ruefully; some of those came from the book having been thrown at a wall or a tree in a fit of inexpressible irritation, he knew.

His smile softened, though, as he remembered how else the wear and tear had been obtained - be it from the times where the book had been heedlessly crushed between their two bodies in the urgency to be close together, or had fallen to the floor from a chair or bed, completely forgotten in the heat of the moment. Over the last, blissful six months, there had been far more moments like that than there had been tears.

And now there was about to be one more. Hearing rapid footsteps approach, Blaine tucked the blue journal back into his coat just in time for a blur of alabaster skin and highly fashionable winter wear to crash into him with a high-pitched giggle. Blaine slid along the bench slightly and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend to steady them both, holding the other boy closely to him.

'Found you!' Kurt chirped smugly, rubbing his icy nose into Blaine's neck and laughing softly as the shorter boy squirmed. 'I win again.'

Blaine raised Kurt's face with tender fingers and kissed him soundly, not breaking away until he was certain he was about to pass out. 'Are you sure you won?' he asked, panting slightly. 'Because that doesn't feel like losing to me.'

Kurt smirked, and Blaine was _so_ tempted to lean back in and claim what had to be the most beautiful creature in the world, with his delicate features and pink-tinted cheeks and clear, glowing eyes. But, no. Kurt had won and deserved his prize. Leaning down to pick up the black journal from the ground, and dusting it off with a smirk of his own - more of the best kind of wear and tear - Blaine asked, 'Are you ready for the last two pages?'

Kurt snuggled in next to Blaine, their arms and thighs pressed fully together, his head tilted down onto the curls next to him. It was the way they had read almost every new page, facing it side by side. Blaine flicked through a few sections, but it wasn't long before the book fell naturally open to where they were up to - it was a page Blaine had visited too many times to count, since he'd first spoken the words aloud. Because, spread across two adjoining pages, were the ten reasons Blaine had gone back to Kurt, that he had recited almost verbatim to the boy. And then, at the very bottom of the second page, Blaine had carefully taped a ticket stub for the last plane of the day from New York to Ohio.

Kurt sighed, running a gentle finger over the words with the softest smile playing around his mouth. 'And here we are,' he said. 'We've come full circle, haven't we? All that drama and pain, we've fixed it all. We don't even need to talk about these pages, do we? This is where all the good things started.' Unable to resist, Blaine pulled one of Kurt's hands up to his mouth and kissed the skin on the inside of his wrist. 'I almost want to frame these pages,' Kurt continued, voice quiet. 'But I couldn't possibly separate them from the rest. The book is complete like this.'

Blaine hummed his agreement, regarding the pages with his own fond stare. In front of him were the first ten things he'd done right in this relationship. 'This journal is yours now,' he said. 'I know I kept it while we were working through it, but it feels like it's holding a piece of me in its pages that belongs to you.'

Kurt didn't say anything for a moment, turning his head slightly until his face was buried in Blaine's wild, gel-free locks. 'Thank you,' he whispered into them eventually, and pulled Blaine so close that he was almost in Kurt's lap.

They clung to each other for a moment, soaking up the combined body heat and a joy that they couldn't debase by vocalising. Eventually, Kurt picked up the journal and gently closed it, tucking it into his bag. 'Blaine?' he asked tentatively, grabbing his boyfriend's hands. He raised an eyebrow when he realised that the tanned fingers in his grasp were gloveless and freezing.

'Yes?'

'Do you think that you could try something for me?'

'Kurt, I think I've proven I'm up for just about _anything_ you want to try,' Blaine said, lifting his own teasing eyebrow.

Kurt flushed and kicked Blaine slightly. 'Be serious, please.' His own face sobered. 'I wanted to ask you if you'd thought about keeping another journal. I know we've gotten good at communicating, but... well, we're both boys, so we still avoid talking about stuff. And the journal is good at starting conversations.'

Blaine nodded, trying to suppress a grin. 'And helping us catch those little things we didn't even know were bothering us.' As Kurt agreed, Blaine drew the other journal out of his coat again, the blue one. 'I'm way ahead of you. I know it's not Christmas yet, and this isn't your real present, but I have something for you anyway. A journal of the last six months - and unlike the first one, which I just wrote in my need to get it all out, all of these entries start with _Dear Kurt_.'

Kurt's eyes widened slightly as he accepted the journal, taking in the glossy blue leather. He then leaned forward, capturing Blaine's mouth in a heated kiss - and the new journal slipped off his lap and onto the ground. Blaine couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

'I love you,' Kurt said firmly. 'I don't care if I say it far too often - we're perfect together, and I love you.'

'I love you, too.' Blaine's response was equally firm and unhesitating. 'And I promise, I will work to keep us perfect until the day you tell me to stop.'

'Well, you're going to be working for a very, very long time,' Kurt said, his tone teasing, but Blaine thought he could see something very raw in those blue eyes. 'Because I know you'll never break a promise.'

Blaine grinned and pulled Kurt to him, mouths and tongues meeting, and it was so easy now. What once had been a desperate search for home was now as effortless as stepping through an open door; the embers of a long-burning fire lifted their hearts out of their chests and brought them together in the warm, dark space where they were one person and the world was theirs alone.


End file.
